


Envy Me

by PridetotheFall



Series: Beautiful Chains [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, All sorts of terrible terrible things, Awkwardness, Caretaking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fade, Fade Tongue, Hurt No Comfort, Kink Meme, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Spoilers, Swearing, Torture, Yeaahhhh there'll be smut, most likely, potential smut, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PridetotheFall/pseuds/PridetotheFall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a kink meme prompt.</p><p>"A huff of breath from the Wolf's nose shuddered over her skin, momentarily fluffing her hair. It was so close. If this were not a dream her bowels would have emptied by now. As it was, the terror served to blind her eyes. Senna stared into oblivion awaiting death."</p><p>As they neared a second attempt to close the Breach, Senna Lavellan found herself trapped in the company of a wolf that stalked her through the Fade each night. The Dread Wolf had caught her scent and Senna feared her role as prey in this desperate hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Envy the First

**Author's Note:**

> God I really love this idea. I'm excited to get this started :D 
> 
> And don't mind me, just setting up some creepy foreshadowing. *whistles innocently*
> 
> Response to a kink meme prompt:
> 
> As implausible as it might be for Envy to lock away and study the Dread Wolf...but whatever, power diminished, it has a special cage, plot reasons blah blah.
> 
> Anyway, it would be great if the kiss scene with actual Solas is moved up to before they go to Therinfal, so they're together but of course he says he needs time to think about it. Then the switch happens and "Solas" comes to her, because Envy never wanted to be Inquisitor, it was envious of Solas getting to be with her.
> 
> Lavellan is overjoyed that he decides to give their relationship a chance, but there's also something off about him...
> 
> Bonus: Really creepy fake Solas
> 
> Bonus Bonus: The real Solas keeps trying to contact her in the fade
> 
> Bonus Bonus Bonus: He can only appear to her in wolf form, and keeps trying to earn her trust and get her to follow him to show her the truth, but she's terrified the Dread Wolf's caught her scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been almost completely rewritten. If you read it before, you should probably reread it. If you haven't, welcome! XD

Senna had experienced stressful times in her life before – personal catastrophe, the weight of leadership, broken relationships, and that one time dealing with sylvans – but this was something entirely different. As if the Veil ripping open in an apocalyptic explosion wasn't enough, there was the burning mark on her hand that she couldn't explain; the mark that brought her under harsh scrutiny. As if the shemlen needed any reason to glare at her bold vallaslin with fear and hatred. They had one all the same. She was blamed for the destruction of the conclave before she was even conscious of the explosion. 

Now there was this: standing in a room at the back of the Chantry with four humans. For a little while she wasn't sure why she was there. After the unsuccessful attempt to close the Breach only two weeks before, Senna agreed to stay with the Inquisition until it was taken care of. She was, after all, the only person with the power to close the tears, whether she liked it or not. Cassandra hasn't specified what her role would be so Senna assumed she would be the tool they brought out when they needed it and shoved in the corner when they didn't to hide the fact they were relying on an elf to set things right. It definitely seemed that way the last two weeks as she healed from the aftermath of the conclave. 

She spent most of her time with Solas. The elf – she was hesitant to call him a city elf anymore – was infinitely curious about her mark. In the beginning, after she stabilized the Breach and all the energy of battle left her, Senna was bound to a human bed for several days. Solas would sit beside her bed, notes at the ready, and prod the green hole in her left hand with both fingers and magic. She didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. He was courteous throughout, always informing her before he tried to infuse magic into the mark and asking if anything hurt. Senna hadn't expected such kindness in the situation, even from another elf. The only other elf she'd see was a skittish girl that never introduced herself and only stared at Senna's violet vallaslin with fear. So for him to regard her so normally was a relief, even if they had a few hard disagreements when she tried to make conversation during the long hours she spent bedridden. 

But now she was well again. Cassandra had called for her presence in the Chantry that morning. She didn't trust the Seeker though she was sure the feeling was mutual. Still, she had little choice but to go along with whatever they were planning. The Breach needed to be closed. 

Cassandra introduced her to the Inquisition's leaders. They began a discussion of the Chantry's reaction to the formation of the Inquisition and Senna was left standing awkwardly next to Cassandra. She knew next to nothing about the organization. It seemed like the human's problem. 

And so it was. Why should a Dalish elf care for the Chantry that destroyed her only homeland and claimed it in the name of their own god? Let them argue amongst themselves and cry over the loss of their leader. Senna only hated that they tried to call her blessed, touched by their holy figure. She could only laugh at that. Herald of Andraste. Others had said it: why should Andraste send an elf? Some would shrug and call it the will of the Maker. For Senna, if was truly blessed with the mark to save the world, she liked to think it was Mythal that touched her. But she couldn't tell the humans that. Most of them wouldn't know who Mythal was. The rest would cry blasphemy, though she took comfort in the idea they couldn't kill her without dooming the world. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.

“There is something you can do,” Leliana said as Senna tried to ignore the flitting glances their commander – what was his name? - kept sending her. Curious about her vallaslin like the rest of the camp, no doubt. So far the only ones unconcerned with her markings were Leliana, Solas, and Varric. 

So she was to be put to good use. As expected. Mother Giselle wished to speak with her but the woman was stuck between the warring templars and mages by helping refugees in the Hinterlands. Senna was to go meet with the woman. There were smaller rifts in the area only she could close, and Cassandra agreed to accompany her since they would most likely encounter trouble from humans and demons alike. Varric would come too, so Cassandra could keep an eye on the dwarf. Funny. Senna thought he was free to go. 

“Before you leave, there are a few matters we should attend to,” Josephine said once the matter was settled. “We received a letter from Clan Lavellan asking after you.”

Senna took the folded note Josephine passed her. Her green eyes flit across the familiar script of her friend and mentor. Deshanna was worried. From across the Waking Sea it looked as if Senna had been taken captive against her will. Perhaps that was true. Senna only consented because her options were stay or doom the world. If she didn't stop the Breach even her own family would be overrun with demons. It wasn't a difficult choice to make. 

“I'll send her a response before we leave,” Senna agreed. The ambassador nodded. 

Leliana cleared her throat. “While I'm sure your Keeper will be happy to hear from you, it may not convince her your decision was made without coercion. I suggest sending something of practical use with the letter as a goodwill offering.”

“. . . You would?” Was this some kind of trick? Some tactical move to control her further? But no, the Inquisition had limited resources as it was. They wouldn't waste them on a Dalish clan in the Free Marches when there were _humans_ in need right outside their door.

“Can we really spare the resources? Our coffers are not limitless,” Cullen voiced Senna's thoughts. 

“We need allies, Cullen. Even a Dalish clan can have influence and Lavellan is known for their dealings with Wycome. Is that not true?” Josephine directed the question at Senna, who was still trying to figure out what angle they were coming from. 

“Yes, we trade regularly with Wycome and the duke allotted us a plot of land a few years ago. But we don't have any political power for you to use,” Senna said.

“Still, a good word can go a long way,” the antivan smiled. 

“This isn't about putting the Dalish to use. I suggested it to show our intention is to help.” Leliana frowned. 

“Of course,” Josephine agreed. “Is there anything in particular your clan needs? I'll see if we can spare it.”

Senna looked away from staring at the spymaster. “I noticed iron is plentiful here. We always need more for cooking wares and parts for the aravels.”

“I'll see what can be done.”

“Thank you.” Senna nodded. She would save her true gratitude for the moment they carried out what they said. It was still too early to trust. 

“Speaking of the north,” Cullen said. “We've received several requests for aide in the immediate area. It's been simple enough to answer the call, but it seems we've garnered attention from some farther from the Breach.”

His lip curled, stretching at the scar there, as he picked up the missive to glance over it. “Lord Kildarn asks for our help in 'driving the heretics from his land.' They are refugees, yet this lord would turn them out because there are apostates and elves among them.”

“I know the man.” Josephine grimaced. “It would be best not to get involved. He is a pariah, at best.”

“You would leave those people at his mercy then?” Cassandra frowned. 

“We could push the refugees into moving off his land to a more welcoming lord nearby,” Leliana suggested. “Win his favor while helping the refugees.”

“I fail to see how that's helping. We should just send a patrol to aide the people. Hang the lord's concerns,” Cullen said. 

“And create an enemy that would be more than willing to start a conflict? Yes, that'll help the people,” Josephine said, her tone bordering scathing. 

“Immediate action is required in the face of catastrophe. Consequences come later,” Cullen grumbled. 

“Seems like he has no power to do anything anyway, if he's asking for the Inquisition's help,” Senna spoke up. Their eyes turned to her. She shuffled, then continued. “The refugees are the ones making up the bulk of the Inquisition so it seems a better idea to curry favor with them rather than an ornery lord. Ignoring people there might call into question the loyalty of refugees here. People know when they are being used to further someone else's goals.”

“I agree,” Cassandra spoke first. “We need people to know the Inquisition was founded to restore peace, not gain political power.”

“Then I'll send the patrol to help the refugees.” Cullen looked at the women around the table for dissent. None did, so he nodded. 

There were a few other things, trifling matters, and Senna had little to say. When she did speak, she was surprised to find they listened to her input. 

These were not the humans she expected. She was beginning to hope. 

She stretched her arms out as the meeting adjourned. Senna flexed her left hand, testing the feeling in her palm. For awhile she thought she'd lost all feeling in her hand and lower arm but it slowly came back as she recovered. Now there was only one spot next to the mark she couldn't feel. It was better than throwing up and shaking in pain every time the Breach expanded. Thank the gods they were at least able to stop it growing. 

Senna exited the Chantry, throwing a loud 'fenedhis lasa' at Roderick on her way out. The human scowled deeper and retreated, probably to complain to Cassandra about the wild elf. 

“A bit vulgar, don't you think?” 

Senna turned as Solas approached. The quirk of his lips told her he didn't disapprove as much as his words implied. And just when she was starting to think of him as a stodgy old man. 

She shrugged. “When he stops calling me knife-ear behind my back I'll consider using nicer words.”

“I see,” he said with another quirked smile. He gestured to her left arm. “How do you feel today?”

“Good.” She flexed her hand again. “I can feel almost everything again, and I was able to cast a spell with it this morning. Kinda greenish around the edges though.”

“Interesting. Would you be willing to demonstrate?” He shifted, folding his arms. 

Senna reached for her staff. His hands dropped again. 

“No, not-”

It was too late. She summoned her mana and threw out fire that licked over her hand and up her elbow. Varric started coming up the path in the same moment Senna released her spell. It shot out and flared against the ground just in front of his feet, then fizzled out of existence. The dwarf reacted by jumping back and reaching for his beloved crossbow. Realizing there was no fight, he relaxed. 

“Watch where you're aiming,” Varric called. 

Senna waved at him. “Ir abe-sorry, Varric. You had bad timing.”

“Heh, story of my life. What are you mages up to anyway?”

Solas frowned down at Senna. “I meant for you to show me where there was space to cast. We don't need anymore injured in Haven.”

“But did you see it? See how it fizzled at the end? Fire doesn't fizzle.” Senna conjured another ball of fire. This time she held it in her hand so they could see the green flickering across its edges.

“Hm, it seems to be residual Fade energies from the mark. Perhaps clinging to your mana when it materializes. There seems to be no effect on your magic, at the least,” Solas said. “I doubt it's anything to be concerned about, but if it causes pain, notify me immediately.”

“Yes, mamae,” Senna joked. The other elf scoffed quietly. 

“At least you two are getting along,” Varric said. 

“Aw, Varric, are we not friends?” Senna asked.

“As long as you don't set me on fire we should work together just fine, Sunflower.”

Senna's brows shot up behind her messy red bangs. “Sunflower?” She glanced at Solas. “And Chuckles? Do you give everyone nicknames?”

“It's my thing,” Varric confirmed.

“But. Sunflower? You couldn't do better than that?” She pouted. 

“Believe me. It fits.”

“Oh come on. I can think of a ton of better names than that. Like Da'Elgara.” Solas snorted. Senna glared and continued. “Or Flamey, or Fireball, or-or-”

Varric burst into laughter. “Just stick to closing rifts, Sunflower.”

Senna humphed. 

“Anyway, I came up here to meet with the Seeker,” the dwarf said. 

“She just wants to tell you about the expedition,” Senna huffed. 

“Expedition?” Solas asked. 

“We're supposed to go to the Hinterlands to talk to some Chantry lady. Cassandra wants to drag Varric along to 'keep an eye on him',” she explained. 

“Shit,” Varric grunted. “You know, I would have come along anyway but, well, now I need to think of the best ways to aggravate the shit out of Cassandra.”

Solas shook his head, but Senna noticed a little smile on the edge of his lip. “Perhaps I will speak with the Seeker as well. I should join you if you travel.”

“Why?” Varric asked as if there were ten things he could think of that would be better than going with them. 

“Seeing how important the mark is, it would be best to know everything we can about it, Master Tethras. We have only seen it used to close rifts under dire circumstances. There is still much we can learn in these beginning stages that could prove useful in the future, especially on the field of battle,” Solas explained. 

“Have fun with that.” Varric left with a shake of his head. 

“Well, I have to go write up a letter before we leave,” Senna said. She bid Solas goodbye and returned to the cabin she'd been given. It was strange having a building to herself. She'd nearly gone crazy stuck inside as she healed. Senna often snuck out to take a quick walk around Haven, much to the ire of both Cassandra and Solas. Now she barely used the place, preferring to sleep on the roof or near the bonfire at the center of town. The only time she used the cabin was during the day if she needed to change clothes. Now she would have another use for the place. 

She sat at the desk and prepared the ink and pen to write. 

_Mamae,_

_I am alive and well. Ir abelas. I know you worry for me. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked to come to the conclave. Many things are changing because of it. I want nothing more than to come home but I have been gifted with the ability to heal the Breach into the Fade. I'm sure you've already heard about it. Now it falls to me to fix it. I can't leave a duty like this unattended. When I'm finished here I will come home. I promise._

_The shemlen have said they will send you supplies as a sign of goodwill. I don't know if they will. Maybe they're lying. So far they seem to mean well. I don't trust them, but they are the only ones trying to help so I will be working with them for some time. I will keep you updated when I can. For now, know that I am safe and doing all I can to keep the demons from reaching you. Stay safe._

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent,  
Senna_

She read over it again, deemed it passable, and sealed it to be sent out. The next morning, when they were saddling up their horses, she gave the letter to Josephine. For a moment she wondered if they would even send it. But they would. They had no reason not to. She had already agreed to help. 

Senna pulled herself up into the saddle of her old mare, a strange feeling after riding halla. The horse was much bigger and slower than she was used to. She had no choice but to adjust. 

They were a strange little group. Bickering became commonplace but so did camaraderie. While they picked at each other they also helped one another, especially on the battlefield. With all of the chaos after the conclave explosion, bandits had become more confident. They were also attacked by templars on the road and Senna was happily surprised when Cassandra defended her and Solas against them, calling on her superior rank for them to back down. The templars didn't listen and they were forced to fight them anyway, but Senna appreciated that the human tried. 

The Hinterlands were no better. Now they were attacked not only by templars, but mages as well. Senna tried to talk to the first group of mages they came across. They were wary of her when they saw her face, of course, but they only attacked when they saw Cassandra and the emblem on her armor. They didn't even try to listen. For that, Senna hardly felt bad for setting them on fire. 

Thankfully Mother Giselle turned out to be a reasonable woman. She offered advice on how to deal with the Chantry, which was apparently threatening to dismantle the Inquisition before it could get on its feet, even though they were the only ones helping anyone. When Senna mentioned her lack of knowledge about the Chantry, Giselle smiled and offered to return with them to Haven to provide help. 

With that decided, their 'official' work in the Hinterlands was finished. Senna couldn't ignore all the people she saw, the people that would starve or freeze without help. Even her people would be hard pressed to survive in those circumstances. 

When she was younger she would have let the humans die. She would have relished it. A bit of recompense for her people. Now she saw an opportunity. A Dalish elf helping the humans when no one else would? They would remember it, appreciate it. And they called her blessed. She could use that. Although, as it turned out most hardly cared for her new title. They only thanked her and the Inquisition for actually doing something. They didn't care who the help came from. Senna found it relieving rather than disappointing. She didn't need a holy name. They were so desperate for help they appreciated her simply giving it. And that became reason enough for her to give it.

The others agreed that the refugees needed help and so they spend an extra few weeks closing rifts, killing game and hauling it back across battlefields to feed people, finding blankets for the injured and cold, and wiping out the crazed templars and mages that were willing to kill anyone that crossed their paths. 

Something else happened in that time as well. Senna spent many late nights with Solas as they camped at the Crossroads. He would stay up after a day of travel and fighting to heal injured soldiers and civilians alike until she could feel his mana deplete so much he would nearly fall asleep where he stood. 

After the third time helping him to his bedroll she finally asked, “Why do this for them? You'll run yourself ragged.”

“War is kind to no one, least of all the common person. There is no one else to help them so I will,” he said, eyes sliding shut for a few seconds. 

“You think this is war?”

“You think it isn't? It is war for the templars and mages that hurt these people caught between their skirmishes. It is war to those who lost everything at the conclave and still have no answers.”

Senna scowled. “You don't owe these people anything. Why tire yourself for them?”

He scrutinized her for a long moment. “I don't help them in order to gain from it. I help them because they need it. Do I need any other reason?”

“Even the humans? Even after what they did to our people?” She crossed her arms. 

“Yes. I will not hold a man responsible for the sins of his father.”

“Oh, then I must have imagined those clans wiped out by humans, or all those elves serving humans because they know nothing better, or fucking Halamshiral. I just made that one up,” Senna nearly snarled. Her shoulders were tightening just talking about it. 

Solas responded with a low sigh. “Hold your grudges, then. Hate. Hold them hostage with your disapproval. Don't think. Don't look for opportunities to change. Wait for the change to come to you. That's how you make things better, is it not?”

The words cut deep. Senna's jaw clenched. “Easy for you to say. I bet you don't even know what happened to the elves, do you?”

All of a sudden his eyes darkened as they cut to hers. “I know more than your retold fairy tales. I walked the Fade to find the truth while you listened to hearsay of hearsay. The Dalish are no more interested in the truth than a noble dwarf is in the sun.”

Mana licked over her skin as Senna fought her rage. She said nothing and walked away. For a long time she kept walking, until the fire left her fingers, until she could really think about what Solas said. 

The next day Senna offered to mend those that needed it. She wasn't a healer – her magic was focused on offensive spells – but she knew a few spells that would ease pain and mend skin. 

“I don't agree with everything you said,” she told Solas. “But you were right that I shouldn't need a reason to help these people. If I'm going to be angry at anyone, it should be the people in command that posture and only act when it is convenient to them. If I'm to be a figurehead of some kind, I won't let myself be like that.”

He nodded with a soft smile. That was the first time Senna noticed that he was attractive.

She kept noticing it too. When his brow furrowed before he cast a spell, when his nose crinkled as he talked to Varric or when he offered a genuine smile to Cassandra, when his eyes softened as he knelt to speak to a child. He had very blue eyes; clear yet stormy and filled with an intelligence she hadn't appreciated before. 

Senna decided to call it admiration. She was impressed by his kindness and his conviction, though the latter could be abrasive at times. 

That was all. Admiration. She wouldn't think too deeply into it. 

They returned to Haven for only a week before being sent off to Orlais. Senna objected at the war table but her opinion didn't go as far as she had assumed. The Chantry needed to be appeased. Cassandra would be there to talk and Senna would go to show off the mark and, if needed, convince them she was blessed. She vehemently disagreed. There was no way she would claim the blessing of their god. It would only end in disaster. If others wanted to call her the Herald of Andraste, fine. She couldn't stop them. Senna wouldn't deceive them over something so dear to peoples' hearts. 

They agreed to that, at least. Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine sent her and Cassandra out to Val Royeaux, and Varric and Solas accompanied them just in case. 

Senna hoped they wouldn't have to fight the Chantry because it would cause so many problems, even if a part of her wished they could just get rid of the lot. As they traveled, she reminded herself that people like Gisele existed in the Chantry. That was comforting. 

A crowd had gathered in the center of Val Royeaux to hear the judgement the Chantry was laying on the Inquisition. It was an accusation from the beginning, first with murdering the Divine, then with usurping the Chantry's power. She knew this would be useless.

“The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need,” the woman nearly spat. 

Senna snorted. “Oh really? You should've told him that last time he-”

Cassandra's gauntlet knocked hard against her arm. Senna glanced at her, frowned at the disapproval on the Seeker's face, and started over.

“I make no claim to godhood. I was not sent here by Andraste or the Maker,” Senna said. Not that they'd believed her every other time she said it. “I am simply trying to close the Breach.”

“It's true, the Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it's too late,” Cassandra added. Senna wasn't sure if it was because her own words weren't tactful enough or the Seeker knew they were more likely to listen to the human rather than the elf.

It didn't matter. The Chantry woman wasn't swayed and the people crowded around were apparently only spectators and judges. A full platoon of templars came in from the right and Senna's heart clenched in a moment of fear. But their commander only walked past the posturing woman. Senna watched the woman smirk, watched the soldier come up behind her, and grinned at the scandalized gasp of the crowd as he leveled the woman with one punch. Senna hadn't been expecting it either, but she wouldn't say she wasn't satisfied.

“You're not here to deal with the Inquisition?” Senna said, both relief and trepidation on her tongue as she looked to the commander.

“As if there were any reason to.” His eyes lingered on Senna even as he left the Chantry sisters and separated himself from the crowd. 

“Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that-” Cassandra said, following him.

“You will not address me,” he interrupted, voice cold as an ice spell. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed.”

A shiver rolled up Senna's back. She stared tight lipped at Lucius despite his gaze. She didn't trust herself not to say something offensive, but given the look on Cassandra's face it would have been warranted. 

“Although, I will commend your choice. I'm sure it was difficult to find an attractive elf, and a Dalish one at that.”

She'd never received such a backhanded compliment before and just barely held back from spitting on his ugly face. “Why are you even here? Just come to throw your weight around?”

“I came to see what frightens old women, and to laugh,” he grinned. Never once did his eyes waver from Senna. It was becoming more than unnerving. She could feel Solas shift his mana, preparng spell and followed suit. “I will make the templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve . . . recognition.”

And the way he said it almost made Senna lose control of her mana and release the spell hanging just beyond reach. Was he being lecherous on purpose? Or was she reading into it?

“You have shown me nothing,” he continued. “And the Inquisition less than nothing. But all things are subject to change. All can be persuaded with the right motivations, the right appearance.”

“The Inquisition will never bend the knee to you,” Senna spat. Diplomacy be damned. This guy was a fucking creep. Even some of the other templars seemed to notice. 

His eyes flashed. “Is that so?”

A moment of tense silence passed. Lucius finally turned his eyes. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march.”

With one last glance over Senna, Lucius led his people out. The redheaded mage shook the fire from her fingers and let out a breath. The tension was gone.

“Charming fellow,” Varric said, voice thick with sarcasm. 

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra said. She seemed equal parts surprised and disgusted by his words.

“I don't know, but I don't want to be within five leagues of the man ever again,” Senna said. 

“I don't blame you. He wasn't exactly being subtle with his staring,” Varric said. Senna smiled at his encouragement. At least it wasn't just her imagination. 

“You did well to keep your composure,” Solas added. 

“Hm, yes, a pity isn't it? I could've set his skirts on fire,” Senna mused.

“That would have been . . . interesting to see,” Solas agreed. 

Cassandra cleared her throat. “We should return to Haven and inform the others.”

“Of course.”

Senna was ready to be done with Val Royeaux, but as it turned out the city was not yet finished with them.


	2. My Slow Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Senna meets several members of her growing Inner Circle, and pisses off the only other Dalish she's met in her travels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two completely rewritten. This is the only other rewrite besides Chapter One. The rest will be edited but will mostly have the same content, with extra added.

Arrangements had been made for their stay in Val Royeaux. Josephine, at least, planned ahead in case they were delayed in the city. 

“We cannot tarry,” Cassandra said. She was the most disgruntled about the delay. “The Breach must be closed.” 

The Seeker sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. “However, we also need allies. Madame Vivienne is a well respected member of the court. Her help would be invaluable, if she offers it.”

Senna looked again at the ornate missive she'd been given soon after their meeting with the Lord Seeker. “Why does she want to meet with me though? Why not you or Josephine? Both of you are far more qualified to deal with Orlesians.”

“She is probably as curious about the tales surrounding your mark as anyone. Josephine and I may have more experience in these matters, but you are the one that will decide the fate of Thedas,” she said. 

“No pressure, of course,” Varric added. Senna sent the dwarf a relieved smile. She knew everyone was depending on her. The stories were there already, wild deviations from the truth of her survival – some condemning, some full of divine praise – and even stranger declarations of what she would accomplish. Senna tried not to listen but it was hard when everyone was talking about it. 

It was coming into evening when they arrived at the inn. Cassandra zoned in on the owner, stopping the older man before he could go back to serving his dinner patrons. His annoyed stare at having been interrupted moved from the seeker to the rest of her party as she explained the arrangement. 

“Ms Montilyet didn't say nothin' about no mages,” he scowled. “And I ain't takin' in one of them wild elves.”

Senna's back stiffened. 

“Atisha,” Solas warned before she could do anything. The store keeper glanced at Solas with new scrutiny and Senna wondered if he used elven on purpose. 

“We are here on behalf of the Inquisition,” Cassandra said, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. “These mages will do nothing to jeopardize our errand.”

“Bah! The Inquisition. Chantry dissenters and now mage lovers too. What makes you think I want to be involved wi' that?” he sneered. 

Senna's hand tightened around her staff. Some of the patrons were getting restless. She didn't miss how they glanced at her and Solas – mages _and_ elves – then whispered amongst themselves, taking bets on who could kill them first. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. She looked like she was about to argue but Varric cut in. “This isn't the only inn in Val Royeaux. We'll take our business elsewhere.”

“Yeah, do that,” the owner said. Cassandra glanced at the dwarf, then the crowded room. She nodded and the four of them turned to leave. 

Chairs scrapped the floor as several men stood. Some reached for their weapons. Cassandra placed a hand on her own sword. The air crackled, heavy with the weight of summoned mana. Varric cocked Bianca.

“Looking for a fight?” he taunted. 

One human slowly sat back down. The others eventually followed, some glaring spitefully at Senna and Solas. The air was still tense but they were able to leave without incident. 

As soon as they stepped outside again, an arrow plunked into the ground before their feet.

“Will everyone try to attack us today?” Cassandra exclaimed. 

Luckily the arrow was carrying a message. 

“'People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone',” Senna read. She looked to the others for advice. “What do they mean, 'everyone'?”

“They obviously have something to offer. It may be worth looking into,” Solas suggested. 

“We don't have time to chase nonsense,” Cassandra said.

“I don't know. Now that we have nowhere to stay, we have plenty of time for nighttime goose-chases. Aw, it's just like back in Kirkwall,” Varric added. 

“They do want to help, and if that help can keep us from getting mobbed by angry humans at inns, I'm for it,” Senna agreed. 

Cassandra sighed. “If you wish to investigate this, I cannot stop you.”

They set out to complete the mysterious arrow's errands, all the while ignoring the stares and whispers of the Orlesians, both noble and otherwise. 

“Senna,” Cassandra started after hearing another whispered conversation about the Dalish elf. “Perhaps you should consider-”

“If you're going to tell me to wear a hood to hide my face, you can forget it,” Senna snapped back. “It's about as effective as hiding my staff up my ass.”

Varric snorted. Solas shook his head, though the smile on the edge of his lip gave him away. 

Cassandra considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Understood. I should not have asked. I forget, but the markings mean something to your people, don't they?”

“Yes, the vallaslin are a right of passage to adulthood. They set us apart from humans and the elves that live in human cities. It's a reminder never to submit and a way of keeping our gods close, so we will not lose their memory,” Senna explained, tracing a finger over a curve of Falon'Din's mark. 

Cassandra nodded in the same moment Solas breathed a low 'ha!'. Senna glared. 

“Something to say?” she asked him. This was not the first time he'd been critical of her culture.

“No. The irony is lost on you,” he said. 

“Ah yes, because you know everything and the Dalish know nothing. I forgot,” Senna bit back. 

“Not nothing. Simply very little,” Solas said. 

“Oh? You give us some credit? I'm honored.” 

Solas sighed. Varric chose that moment to cut in. “Alright you two. Looks like we've got another message.”

He leaned next to a potted tree and retrieved the red handkerchief. They followed the lead to the next and eventually ended up in a small courtyard. After a brief bout with a pompous Orlesian they met Sera, the 'Friend of Red Jenny'.

“Aaaand you're an elf,” the archer said upon seeing the face of the fabled Herald. Senna scowled. “Well, hope you're not too . . . elfy.”

“And I hope you bathe regularly.”

Sera paused, then burst into giggles. “You're daft, yeah? Might start to like you.”

Senna accepted the city girl's offer to help the Inquisition, though she wasn't exactly sure what that entailed. Cassandra did say they needed allies, though. The Seeker's disgruntled expression at Senna's acceptance aside. 

“So, Sera, know of anywhere we could spend the night?” Senna asked once it was settled. “The place we were supposed to stay at didn't like my face. Or the staff.”

Sera glanced at said staff. “Yeah, the magic. Scares people.”

Senna gave her a bemused look at her hesitance. “People like you?”

“Look, just don't let it off or swing my way. Heh, 'less you swing my way. Whatever, just follow me, a'right? I know a place,” Sera rambled. Senna couldn't help her smile as they followed Sera through the darkened city. 

They ended up in a dilapidated warehouse in a seedier part of town. Cassandra insisted they take watches (in case Sera was setting them up for ambush), and Senna agreed to take first. They ate the meager remains of their provisions and slept. 

In the morning, after restocking their supplies, they headed north to the Ghislain estate with Sera in tow. As Cassandra suspected, Vivienne offered her support to the Inquisition. 

“You are a Dalish mage?” the enchanter asked, carefully setting her teacup on the table. 

Senna, back stiff from sitting so straight, resisted the urge to glower at the immaculate woman. “I am.”

“And you received training from your clan?” Vivienne scrutinized her again. Senna's shoulders tightened.

“From my Keeper, yes. Is that a concern?” 

Vivienne smiled, though Senna doubted its authenticity. “Not at all, my dear. If you feel your skills are adequate for the battlefield, I will take your word. I have studied the Dalish method and what your people lack in structure they make up for in organic implementation. No doubt you would have benefited from more formal training in a proper Circle, but I understand that is not always feasible.”

Senna's brow arched. “If I may ask, what 'Dalish method' have you studied? Every clan is different, just as every Keeper that trains a young mage is different.”

“That is the method, my dear. The exercise of experiential training rather than a universal course of study. However, I concede your point. It does no good to issue blanket statements,” Vivienne said. 

Senna nodded. “I don't know much about your Circles myself. I would be interested in learning more about them.”

“Of course,” the human answered. With that, Vivienne became Senna's mentor in all things human related, from the history of the Circles of Magi to the nuances of the Orlesian court. There were many things they didn't agree on, but Senna refused to let difference of opinion keep her from gleaning as much information from the enchanter as possible. Vivienne, in turn, seemed to appreciate their professional relationship.

So they were now a small band, the six of them, as they travelled back across the Ferelden border. They bickered terribly but were at least all committed to the same goal: closing the Breach and restoring order. 

Before returning to Haven to determine their next course of action, they headed northeast to the Storm Coast to meet with another interested party. Leliana had sent word to Cassandra about the Bull's Chargers. They were offering their mercenary services to the Inquisition and the spymaster wanted them to meet before signing them on. 

So after an invigorating battle with some Tevinter zealots in the rain, Senna tilted her head back to look up at the qunari, Iron Bull. 

“You the one in charge?” he asked. 

Senna had argued with Cassandra on the matter. The Seeker reasoned that, since Senna was the one with the mark, she should be the one to decide who would be allowed to travel with her. It made sense, but Senna worried the Inquisition leaders back in Haven would accuse her of assuming on power that didn't belong to her. 

“I understand you doubt us,” Cassandra had said. “But we are on your side. We are all eager to see the Breach closed, and you have so far proven yourself capable of making these decisions.”

With a heavy breath, Senna brought herself back to the present. “I am. Iron Bull, I presume?”

“ _The_ Iron Bull, actually,” he rumbled. “Now you've seen the Chargers in action. We're expensive, but we're worth it.”

They had a brief conversation about payment, and Bull's true intention as a qunari spy, leaving Senna to make her decision. 

“Would you assassinate me if they told you to?” she asked, swiping wet bangs out of her eyes.

“Huh,” he started, as if he wasn't expecting the question. “Don't see why they would. You're the only one that can keep demons from overrunning the whole damn world.”

“After the Breach is closed,” Senna said. She flexed her left hand. “Presumably, I'll still have this mark. They may see it as a threat that needs to be destroyed.”

Bull scratched his chin. “It's possible. If you went through all that effort and managed to save us all, I'd feel obligated to tell you if the Ben-Hassrath wanted you dead. Besides, I've got a thing for redheads.”

Senna gave him a bemused smile. “You're surprisingly honest for a man who's job it is to lie.”

“Half the job's about knowing who to be honest with. You don't get anywhere lying to everyone about everything,” he said. 

“Alright, The Iron Bull.” Senna nodded. “You're hired. Don't make me regret it.”

“Excellent.” He clapped a large hand against her back. “Let's grab a drink to celebrate. Krem's probably opened the cask by now.”

Iron Bull didn't join them on their way back. He and the Chargers had to finish up their duties in the Storm Coast and agreed to meet them at Haven. With that decided, they made their way southward. 

They passed through the Hinterlands again on the path to Haven. It was there that Solas pulled her aside one morning as they prepared for another day of travel.

“As I wandered the Fade, I came across an intriguing artifact. It may prove useful in strengthening the Veil against new tears. If you would allow the diversion, I would be interested in finding it,” he explained.

“Of course, Solas. If you think it's worthwhile. But why ask me and not Cassandra?” Senna asked.

Solas tilted his head just so. “You still deny your role in this group? Cassandra relinquished her leadership to you some time ago. The people you have gathered here follow you, not her.”

“I know. I wish they wouldn't,” Senna scowled. “The moment something goes wrong, even if I didn't do anything, they'll blame me for it.”

“That is true of anyone in a leadership position, not simply because you are an elf at the center of a human organization. Everyone I have spoken to respects what you are attempting to accomplish,” Solas said.

“I don't doubt that. I'm just . . . wary.” 

“As you should be,” he agreed. “But letting that caution keep you from your due would be a grave error. You have an opportunity to effect change, if you desire it.” 

“You're certain they won't use my position to try and control me?” 

“Not certain, no. They could try. Though it is unlikely if the Inquisition has not made the attempt already,” he said.

Senna nodded slowly. “You're right, of course. It seems I'll be here whether I like it or not, so I'd best use the position to my advantage. I thought that in the beginning. Then I realized how dangerous it could be. It's hard to trust humans when you know what they're capable of.”

There was a flash of sadness in his eyes as he said, “I understand.”

“Anyway, let's go find this artifact of yours.”

“It's not too far from the camp, nearly straight east,” Solas said. Senna walked with him at the front of the group when they set out. After a short walk between rocky slopes, they came to the entrance of what appeared to be an old tomb. There was a woman just outside, obviously a mage, and Senna's heart leapt at seeing June's vallaslin on her face. It looked fresh. She was still young, then. They helped her dispatch the demon she was fighting and Senna approached. 

“Andaran atish'an, sister,” the mage greeted, looking over the strange group of people accompanying Senna. “I am Mihris. I did not expect to see another Dalish blood here.”

“Nor I,” Senna answered. “You're alone? What takes you from your clan?”

Her expression darkened. “They were all killed by a demon my Keeper was foolish enough to summon. I am the only one left of Clan Virnehn.”

Senna's breath caught. Not only at the news of an entire clan killed, but the name was familiar. “Virnehn? Your Keeper was Thelhen?”

“You knew him?” Mihris brightened a little.

“In a way. I am Senna Lavellan,” she explained. Recognition lit on Mihris' face. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, so you were . . .? Well, yes. He has passed. I'm sorry.” She looked unsure if she should even offer condolence.

Senna waved it off. It didn't matter, she decided. She didn't even really know him. It shouldn't make a difference. 

They were both looking for the artifact Solas mentioned, so Senna offered for Mihris to accompany them into the tomb where it was located. Unfortunately the entrance was blocked by fallen stone. 

“We'll need focused magical energy to get by,” Mihris observed. “Flat ear, think you can manage it?”

Senna watched Solas, who had remained silent despite the curiosity in his gaze, stiffen. His eyes cut to Mihris as his lips thinned. 

“Ma nuvenin, da'len,” he answered. Senna almost laughed. He had never once called her da'len. Mihris wouldn't know it, but his subtle jab was obvious to Senna. 

“ _Take care how you address my friend_ ,” she warned. Mihris looked at Senna, then Solas, and gave a muted nod. She didn't apologize. 

“Ugh, elfies can't talk normal for once,” Sera muttered behind her. 

“If you must know, Sera, I was just telling Mihris not to call my friends flat ears,” Senna explained. Mihris frowned again as she and Solas worked together to clear the entrance. 

The rogue laughed. “Make her mad, she'll roast yer buns.” 

“Don't doubt that,” Varric added. “I've seen her do it.”

Cassandra let out an annoyed grunt. Still, Senna saw the pleased light in her eyes and grinned in return. 

“Come now, it's untoward to take advantage of a poor target,” Vivienne said. 

Mihris glowered, though she remained silent. There were several demons inside the tomb that needed to be dealt with before they were able to find and activate the ward. With the artifact working, Mihris quickly took her leave. Though not before shooting Senna an angry word.

“Thelhen is the reason my clan is dead. I will not soon forget it.”

“What's she whining about?” Sera asked. 

Senna let out a breath. “It doesn't matter. Let's go. We need to get back to Haven.”

They left the tomb and Solas touched her arm briefly before they moved on. 

“Ma serannas.” She stilled at the sincerity in his voice, then nodded. 

“No one's going to insult you while I'm around.”

He paused. “I appreciate that.”

She noticed his hand was still at her arm, fingers light on the sleeve of her robe. She didn't mind the contact. He seemed unaware of it, his brilliant eyes lost on something nearby. Senna was beginning to see a pattern. On occasion Solas would fall out of conversation or draw so deeply into his own thoughts he would forget where he was. It was a rare thing, but it happened enough for her to notice. 

Senna gently touched the back of his hand with her opposite arm. “Solas?” 

He breathed deep, his hand flinching away from hers as he focused again. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I apologize. I was lost in thought,” he said. 

“I noticed,” she poked. “Should I worry when I see you like that?”

“No. . . . I have traveled alone for some time. I am simply unused to having anyone pay attention to my movements,” he said. 

“I see. Should I pay less attention?” 

He laughed. “No. It is unusual but not unwanted. However, I will endeavor to be more aware in the future.”

“You don't have to,” Senna shrugged. 

“Perhaps.” His fingers curled around his staff. Senna took a moment to admire how slender and elegant they were. “Tell me, does Mihris hold you accountable for her clan's death?”

“What? Oh, no. I don't think so.” She folded her arms and scuffed a foot against the stone floor of the tomb's entrance. 

“Then her parting words-?”

Senna sighed. She guessed it wouldn't hurt to tell him. Not that it mattered. “Her Keeper was my father. She wanted me to know, as his kin.”

“I see. You have my condolences,” he said.

“Don't bother.” The bitterness seeped easily into her voice. “I only met the man once.” 

“Ah.” He was curious but wouldn't pry further. 

There was a loud puckering noise from the doorway. Senna laughed when she realized it was Sera crouched at the entryway making kissing faces. 

“Get on with it,” Sera called. 

“What was that we said earlier about roasting people's buns?” Senna replied. The rogue was gone in an instant. Solas chuckled and followed her back into the sunlight. 

They continued on their way to Haven.


	3. Of Skin and Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senna is tasked with deciding whether to side with the mages or templars. She also gets attacked in the Hinterlands, thankfully not by a bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the great feedback and all those lovely kudos :3 This chapter ended up being quite long and not what I originally planned. But more sexual tension happens. And other stuff too, I guess.
> 
> Chapter edited. Added a bit more content and changed some of the ending ;)

“I agree with Cassandra, the Lord Seeker's actions are definitely unusual,” Leliana said. 

Senna had immediately been thrust into the war room at the back of the Chantry upon their return to Haven. She briefed the others on what happened in Val Royeaux, and now they were discussing their options.

“There is something foul at work within the Order,” Cassandra said.

“You said one of the templars resisted? Called doubt on the Lord Seeker?” Cullen confirmed. “It may be that a majority of the templars would not agree with him. They should be the ones we concentrate our focus on.”

“If we do reach out to the templars, the rebel mages will take it as a sign of the Inquisition's support of their enemy, no matter what we could say to convince them otherwise,” Josephine pointed out. “Our influence and reach is so far very limited. We do not have the power to negotiate both sides.”

“That was what the conclave was supposed to accomplish,” Cassandra said. Senna could hear the frustration on her lips. 

“Well, who would be more qualified to actually close the Breach?” Senna offered. “Mages have the raw power, but it seems the templars would have the training to deal with a magical anomaly like the Breach.”

“I still advocate using the mages,” Leliana said. 

“And I still disagree,” Cullen replied. 

“The mages have already offered their aide,” Josephine pointed out. “And the Lord Seeker made it obvious it would not be easy to win his favor.”

“Templars have the structure of the Order. There is no telling if the mages will listen or respond to our authority. We cannot afford such uncertainty with the threat the Breach poses,” Cassandra added.

Cullen rubbed his forehead. “Then we are fairly equally divided on the matter.”

“Did you have anything to add, Senna?” Leliana asked. 

Senna bit her lip. “To start, I don't know much about templars. And I worry about the wisdom of shoving even more energy into this mark when we barely understand it. I like the idea of weakening the Breach, but would that actually work in practice?”

“With some of the more seasoned templars, it shouldn't pose a problem,” Cullen said. Leliana shot him a look as if she didn't agree. 

“Perhaps we should give you the chance to decide our course of action,” Josephine suggested. All eyes turned to her, so she explained. “It is your arm, after all. The Breach is stable enough, and there are several other matters we can attend to in the meantime. Regardless, we four are at an impasse. Senna's contribution would be the tipping point either way.”

“It wouldn't hurt to try,” Leliana smiled. 

“You're certain?” Senna confirmed. Choosing the people that would travel with her was one thing. Deciding which side of an entire war their organization should take was an entirely different matter. 

“We will negotiate peace talks after the immediate threat is gone. All we need is to decide who will accompany you to the Breach,” Cassandra said. Senna nodded, then looked to Cullen, the only one that hadn't given his opinion. His fingers ran over the back of his neck, a tic she'd noticed during their second war room meeting. 

“Alright,” he said. “So long as you make a decision soon. The sky will not wait forever.”

Senna nodded. Their meeting was officially finished, and Josephine produced a letter that had arrived from Deshanna while she was away. As Senna read over it (they had sent the iron as promised), Cullen excused himself, fingers still digging into the back of his neck. 

“Thank you,” Senna told Josephine and Leliana as she finished the note. “You didn't have to take the time to help my clan.”

“It was a small matter, considering all you have done for the Inquisition,” Josephine said with a small bow. 

There was more work to be done, though. Leliana informed Senna of the disappearance of the Grey Wardens, and tasked her with contacting one by the name of Blackwall they caught word of in the Hinterlands. 

So, with a grumble of discontent, Senna led her group back towards Redcliff _again_. Bull accompanied them this time as well, and his presence added much to their ragtag team. 

Blackwall was unhelpful when it came to information on the Wardens, but in the end offered his help.

“In times like these, thinking we're absent is about as bad as thinking we're involved,” he reasoned. 

“Well the Inquisition doesn't have the best reputation at the moment either,” Senna pointed out.

“Yes, but you're the only ones trying to fix this mess. People's opinions can change all too fast, believe me.”

Senna let him join them and they began the short hike back to their own camp. 

“So, the tattoos,” Blackwall started. “You're . . . ?”

“Dalish,” Senna supplied. She supposed it was better than assuming and passing judgement. 

“Right. Don't know much about your people.”

“And I don't know much about Grey Wardens,” she said, brow raised. 

He chuckled. “Point taken. You're the one in charge, then?”

“For now. They need my mark to close the Breach. After that, I can't say.”

“Well if you earned it, it would make sense for you to keep it,” Blackwall said. 

“You'd think so. But there's no telling what will happen. Besides, after the Breach is dealt with, I'll have no reason to stay. I would prefer to just go home,” Senna said.

“Not many would give up even a little power so easily.”

“You did say you don't know much about Dalish,” she smiled. To be fair though, it was less a power thing and more a 'don't let the humans control you' thing.

Blackwall grunted, but said no more.

They weren't at camp long before Senna had to pull everyone away again. Their scouts had discovered the location of the rogue templar's encampment and they set out to rid the area of their destructive presence for good. 

She'd heard much about templars in her clan when she was little: tall tales and horror stories from her Keeper meant to keep a mage like her out of trouble and away from shemlen eyes. She heard of Circles and harrowings and the way templars could dispel magic. When she was older Senna learned the politics of it all. The templars weren't comfortable with Dalish mages roaming free but didn't want to start another war over it. 

So she had heard of templars but had never seen one up close until the conclave, had never felt the power of one for herself. Sometimes she wondered about it during meetings in the war room. Cullen was a soldier, obviously, but his abilities were a mystery to her and Senna often had to tamp down urges to bait him into using them just to find out what it would feel like. In any case, he never treated her like she was about to become an abomination, though she was aware of the fleeting glances of distrust he sent her at first, and she should have been grateful for that. 

Because now she knew what a templar's power felt like. 

They were in the encampment, fighting a slew of archers and well armored templars with full body shields. Senna was at the back with Solas, letting Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Blackwall fight the templar's force with equal power. Vivienne, too, preferred closer combat with her specialties and Senna was distracted on many occasions watching the woman summon blades of ice to cut through her enemies. Varric was with them at the back, picking off archers and those with lighter armor. Sera was more valuable than Senna gave her credit for. She would distract the templars with arrows and find vital openings in their thick armor. 

Senna had never fought with such a varied group of fighters but there was still that understanding that passed through them, a common idea of the nature of the battlefield and they were learning to smoothly integrate each other's abilities with their own. They learned of each other through their styles, without words, and Senna felt more deeply connected than if they'd simply sat and shared their life stories. It was exhilarating. 

Reinforcements came from the right just as they thought the battle was winding down. Senna instantly set a new barrier over her forward companions in the same moment she felt Solas do the same. They shared a glance of amusement. It was short lived. They could laugh over their synchronized thoughts later. 

Senna let down a barrage of fire to keep the line back. It caught on some, but for many it was a setback that gave her people the upper hand. Solas added a controlled rain of lightening to stun and weaken. One died from it. 

Their styles were very different. Senna preferred fire. She always felt burning her enemies was more effective, faster, and the spells she liked were quick to cast. Solas was obviously her superior, well balanced in his use of destructive magics and always more aware of their defenses. She learned that he preferred lightening and warping the Fade and the earth to his benefit. His skill was staggering beside her own childish fumbling. And while there was no love lost between him and Vivienne, the Enchanter deferred some respect after seeing him in battle. 

“The mages!” One of the templars called as he and a few others broke through between Blackwall and Iron Bull. Senna watched Vivienne fade step away from templar reach. 

“Move,” Solas commanded. He retreated as well but Senna was mid-cast. Surely they wouldn't reach her in time. She could finish. 

But they didn't need to reach her. She didn't know that. The man at the fore stopped short. She saw his feet dig in to the ground. 

Her spell released. 

His hand extended. The full force struck her mid-chest, pushing so hard she skid across the ground a few feet even after she fell. The others came for her, swords raised. Sera and Varric were there first, blocking their path. 

She couldn't breathe. Senna turned over and her lungs heaved with the effort of drawing in nothing. Panic came quickly and her gasps were even more desperate. Her fingers clawed into dirt and grass. Her vision swam. 

“Breathe out first.” Solas knelt beside her, hand gentle on her back. 

But she couldn't. There was nothing there. Tears were on her eyes. She could hear her own hopeless hiccups. Nothing was in them. She was going to die.

“Listen to me,” Solas's stern voice cut her. “Concentrate. Breathe out.”

Senna stopped. She stilled and made a mental effort of compressing her lungs as if in meditation. Her throat released. Air came to her. She gulped it in, trembling and enjoying the scent of the earth as she pressed her forehead against it. 

But it was still wrong and she was still dizzy. She grasped for the Fade and it refused her. Her mana, too, was scattered, scrambled, about as confused as she was. Senna barely remembered there was a battle. 

“Templars,” she rasped. 

“Are defeated. Your firestorm damaged them a great deal. Not a wise move, but we were victorious,” Solas said. 

“The Boss okay?” Bull said from her left. 

“Fine, but she needs time to recover her mana. I suggest we return to camp.”

“Agreed. We're finished here,” Cassandra said. 

“The refugees could use these supplies,” Blackwall added. “We should send our people back here to gather what they can.”

Solas helped her to her feet with a strong grip on her upper arm. When she couldn't stand, he wrapped her arm across his shoulders and became her crutch. Senna looked over her group feeling embarrassment heat her eyes and throat. They had all taken damage, cuts and welts and fatigue on all of them. She took one blast of air from a templar and suddenly she was the one that couldn't walk straight. Yet she was supposed to be the leader. 

The way back was slow. Senna was silent, ashamed. She couldn't look anyone in the face. Conversation was sparse. No one was in the mood. 

“Ir abelas,” Senna admitted as they came closer to the camp. “You warned me and I didn't listen.”

“You should thank Varric and Sera. If they hadn't stood between you and the templars, you would have been slain,” he said. There was something bitter on his tongue, subtle and strong, and Senna wondered if he was disappointed. She wouldn't blame him if he was. 

He set her down by the fire, retrieved a lyrium potion for her, and left. Senna didn't see him for the rest of the day. Her teeth clenched as she raged at herself even as the cool liquid touched her tongue. The potion helped. She could feel her mana returning. 

“Feeling better, dear?” Vivienne approached and gave Senna her staff. She thanked the enchanter for carrying it. 

“I didn't realize. . .” Senna started, trying to come up with some reason, some excuse why she'd been decimated so easily. 

“Oh, yes. The Dalish wouldn't have much contact with templars, would they?” Vivienne supplied. “They _are_ meant for disabling mages, after all.”

“My Kee- Well, I heard stories. About templars. But I thought they were exaggerated,” Senna said. 

“But you now understand how powerful they can be? A Holy Smite from a templar is nothing to be trifled with, my dear. Certainly not to be brushed off as a children's story,” she added. Senna knew Vivienne wanted to ally with the templars to close the Breach, one of many points of contention between her and Solas. 

“Yes, I see that now.” 

Senna checked in with everyone to make sure no permanent damage was done, and thanked Varric and Sera for saving her ass. Varric joked as always, and Sera grumbled something about “magic and shite,” but both were pleased she was alright. Senna then checked with the scouts to make sure no pressing messages had come in. 

When all her duties were done they sat down to dinner. Today's blood was gone. It was time for enjoyment and camaraderie before their return to Haven in the morning. Solas didn't return. 

Senna's heart wasn't in it tonight. She ate and left just as Iron Bull and Varric started trying to out-story each other. 

She walked down to the river and the rams, plentiful in the area, bounded away before her. She stripped and waded in up to her thighs. It was colder now that night had fallen. The waterfall further up the way kept the water flowing and she relished the feel of it threading between the smooth rocks and her soles. She rinsed off and dipped her hair in the water, shaking off any remaining dirt. 

The rams returned when she didn't move. They stood and drank from the river's edge or clambered in and out of rushing pools. The moon was bright so Senna stood and watched. Eventually she had to use her magic to heat herself lest the cold night overtake her. She stayed far longer than she should have but it was a comfort to be there. Here there was life she was accustom to. No humans. No Inquisition. Only the song of wilderness and night. 

A ram bleated in a pained cry. Senna looked for the disturbance. A low grumble sounded in the dark. She saw the wolf's glowing eyes before its body, the black fur hidden in shadow. Ram's blood was on its teeth and its prey wriggled between the wolf's paws before it died. Senna didn't move. The beast had his kill. She wouldn't interfere. 

But the grumble turned to a snarl as it stalked forward. The green glow of its eyes was familiar. Senna thought they dealt with this pack for the horsemaster's wife already. But the pack was nowhere in sight and this wolf was obviously abnormal. 

With a bark and a snap of teeth, it lunged. Senna moved, summoned fire to her fingers, and scrambled out of the water. Her magic was weakened but the flame caught on a small patch of fur. The wolf, angered, snapped at her again. Senna backed away. 

It lunged quicker than she expected and Senna tumbled. Its claws scraped her naked thigh as it tried to balance. The wolf snapped at her throat and face, her hands the only thing keeping it from ripping her apart. Fire surged to her palms and the wolf wined and retreated, throat on fire. Senna tackled, trying to wrestle it down because she couldn't rely completely on her magic. Its claws caught her several times until the beast's jaw clamped down on her arm. Its teeth dug deep into her skin. Senna cried out. She could feel inside its throat with her fingers and lit another flame. The wolf released her and burned to death from the inside. 

Senna stood away from the creature. She was sweating, panting, covered in dirt and blood and fur. And naked. She laughed at the oddity of it, at what it must look like. The laughter wouldn't stop. She kept laughing until she cried and the stress of the day, no, of the month, fell from her. 

She rinsed again in the river, dark streams of blood carried down to mix with fresh water again. She was careful of her new wounds, especially the one on her arm. Her mana was depleted once more. She didn't have the energy to heal herself. She would need a potion. 

So she shimmied back into her smalls and gathered the rest of her clothes to put on later. She didn't want to get blood on them. She wouldn't have the ability to conceal herself back at camp so she wore what she had to. Nudity wasn't something she was concerned about, but she tried to be respectful of the others. Even if they were probably asleep by now. She could never tell with them. 

Senna glanced at the dead wolf. She should perform the rite. It would have been her duty if she was with her clan. But her energy was gone, she was throbbing with pain and fatigue, and she was not with her clan. Not anymore. She was part of the Inquisition, and the Inquisition didn't care about dalish ceremonies. It was a bitter thought but it set her feet moving. 

Fen'Harel would not be appeased this time. 

The fire was low when she stepped silently into camp. Senna dropped her things by her bedroll, maneuvering to keep blood from trickling everywhere. She kept her arm raised high as she tip toed to the supply table. Nothing of use was left out atop it, so she rummaged in the crate beneath, cradling her bad arm against her chest. 

“What are you doing?” 

Senna froze at the quiet voice behind her. She turned her head and her eyes caught on Solas. The fire was so low she hadn't seen him, though she knew he often slept outside the tents like she did. She hadn't expected him to be there tonight after not seeing him all evening. 

His eyes flit down across soft skin and his jaw tensed as he quickly returned his gaze to her eyes. There was no tiredness there that she could see. It was obvious he'd been awake the entire time. 

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” she whispered. Senna turned back to the crate. They had to at least have some elfroot and bandages. 

There was a rustle behind her, the gentle pad of bare feet, and Solas stood beside her. His tunic was missing and his necklace swung against his bare chest. He still wore pants, but the fact that she was in almost nothing before him burned low in her stomach. It was not lost on him either, as she felt the intensity with which he focused his vision. The tension in his face as he tried not to look down was almost physical. 

“We used the rest of the potions earlier,” he explained, voice low. Whether it was to keep from waking anyone or because of the strain in his jaw, she couldn't tell. 

“Oh.” Senna cupped her hand around the throbbing wound on her arm as blood trickled and soaked into the dirt. With a soft sigh, Solas gently led her to the fire. They sat down and he pulled at her ankle to set her scratched thigh in his lap. His fingers pressed to her skin, cool with magic. 

“You must greet trouble as a friend when it finds you,” Solas remarked. 

Senna looked up, attention torn from his warm fingers, the feel of his body under her own. His hand traveled up her thigh. She jolted with a muted gasp. He mumbled an apology even as his fingers lit with a healing spell. She felt it tingle under her skin and knew that his touch was purely medical. That didn't stop her face from flushing or keep a molten heat from dripping into her abdomen. Solas paused, his hand still ghosting over her leg. 

“Lean back,” he said, and Senna might have imagined the purr at the edge of the sound. She did as requested, placing her weight on her good elbow and stretching her torso to reveal every scratch of the wolf's claws. 

Both of his hands pressed her stomach, warm, then cool prickling again as he caressed the wound away. Unable to continue watching his touch on her skin, Senna leaned her head back to concentrate on the stars instead and cleared her newly dry throat. 

“Are you in pain?” Solas asked. She looked back down.

“No, not much,” Senna replied. Her eyes flit over the pink tips of his ears and the redness gathered atop his head. He licked his lips, then clamped them shut. 

“May I?” he ventured. Senna nodded and his palm touched the top of her right breast. She tried to still her rampant breath, to keep her chest from heaving under the curve of his hand. It was hard when she was nearly laying down beneath him, when he hovered so close above her that she could feel the edge of each breath. If she pushed herself up she would have his lips.

Senna wasn't used to this desire. She'd slept with men before but it had always been on practical terms, devoid of any real feelings for one another. She began to find Solas attractive some two months ago, on one of their earliest trips to the Hinterlands. Labeling it as anything other than aesthetic appreciation was off limits in her mind, bordering on dangerous territory she was wont to approach. 

So she wasn't sure how to handle this. It was far too easy for his calloused fingers to pull a reaction from her body. Surely he didn't mean to arouse her senses. He was only trying to heal her skin. Anything more was a result of her desire. 

“Your back?” Solas asked when the scratches on her chest were closed. 

“I think so.” 

He helped her sit up and Senna turned so he could place both hands on her lower back. She closed her eyes and breathed. She concentrated on the heat of the fire against her face. When he was done, he beckoned her to turn again.

He scrutinized the deep bite marks on her arm, then set to healing what he could. Senna watched him, watched the firelight cast shadows in the angles of his face and the furrow in his brow as he concentrated his mana. She licked her lips and swallowed the dryness again. 

Her eyes fell to the jawbone against his chest. It gleamed and flickered in the low firelight. She often wondered where it came from, what it meant, but never asked. It seemed personal. Beneath it there was a long cut. An old scar. There were several on his chest. She counted them in the silence, wondering what stories they told. Solas had told her many stories. Almost none of them were about himself. 

She shouldn't. She knew she really shouldn't. It was already enough to have him touching her, drawing out a feeling she knew couldn't be satisfied. Still, the curiosity blossomed in her chest. Was he as affected as her? Had she imagined the lingering glance of his fingers?

Despite her own warnings, Senna reached out with her good hand and traced her finger across the line of one scar, stopping only when she met the cold edge of his necklace. A tremor ran across his skin. His hand clamped around her wrist. 

Her eyes met his searching gaze. She could hear her heart fluttering in her ears, waiting. She didn't move. She didn't want to. His hand encased hers, the warmth of it in her chest and cheeks. Senna tried to determine the look in his eyes but her own fell to his lips, suddenly so close to her own.

“Solas,” she muttered in invitation. 

He sucked in a breath, faltered, his fingers tightening over hers as his eyes dropped to her lips. He leaned closer, breath on her mouth, then stopped. Senna waited. She watched his eyes clear, his back straighten. 

“It is already late. You should sleep,” he stated. His hand dropped hers. Senna watched as he stood. He gestured briefly at her arm. “Your arm is well healed. The rest will fade in a few days' time.”

She cleared her throat and nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

He nodded and, without a word, retreated to his abandoned bedroll. Senna took a deep breath, heat and emotion roiling in her mind as she tried to make sense of herself. She stood after a few minutes of silence and returned to her own bedroll.

She didn't fall asleep for a long time.


	4. The Taste of Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fade tongue. Yup.
> 
> Edited. Mostly minor things. Now with improved Fade Tongue (hopefully)

There was a careful, artificial distance between her and Solas the next morning. No one would have noticed. He checked in with her during their preparations, voice the same, expression the same, ever polite. But he called her Herald and his eyes were cool with thick layers of distance. She was not allowed to see anything in them. This was the first time he ever cut her off deliberately. It stung far more than she wanted it to.

Senna was not used to any of this. She had only ever loved one man, and that had ended some years ago. Even then, their relationship was never physical. So for Solas to be a man she could admire as well as someone that could illicit desire from her was a strange combination of sensation she had a hard time rectifying. None of that mattered though. He had already denied her. That much was obvious. Only one thing remained. 

Senna beckoned him to follow her just outside the edge of camp as the others tacked up the horses. 

“I'm sorry. About last night. If I made you uncomfortable,” she said. 

The mask slipped and he looked surprised long enough for her to wonder if he thought she would ignore the issue. After a moment he gave her a slight nod. “I appreciate the concern. I was merely caught off guard. And this is not the best time for such things.”

“Oh? When is a good time then?” she smiled. She'd noticed he didn't say anything about not being interested. And she was a foolish girl.

He frowned, refusing to play along. “No, you should focus your mind elsewhere. I will not discuss it further.”

“Alright. If that's what you want,” Senna responded hesitantly. He'd closed up again so fast. 

His lips pressed together, as if resisting what he wanted to say, and he turned back to camp. He did not speak with her on the way back to Haven. In fact, he spoke very little, tension drawing him away from everyone. She was not the only one to notice but there was nothing she could do. He made his decision. All she could do was respect it, no matter how hard that proved to be.

Solas was not the only thing bothering her during their travels. Her mind kept wandering back to her tussle with the wolf. A faint sense of unease lingered in the back of her mind and Senna stared at the fading bite on her arm. She'd done the wrong thing. She knew she had. Last night it'd been so easy, but now her stomach churned with worry. She had enough to worry about without wondering if Fen'Harel would come for her because she didn't properly care for his kin. There were too many people counting on her. 

Senna decided she would petition for Mythal's protection when they returned to Haven. It was the only thing she could do now to mitigate her mistake. 

“Something on your mind?” Varric came up beside her. 

Senna frowned. “Just . . . Dalish superstition. It's hard to explain.”

“I do actually know a bit about Dalish customs, you know. A storyteller needs lots of different stories to tell,” he said. 

“You know Dalish stories?” Senna asked. 

“Of course I do!” And Senna realized he was trying to cheer her, because he added lowly, “Like, three of them.”

She laughed. “Then maybe you should stick to stories about Kirkwall.”

“Alright, fine. Have I told you about the time Hawke accidentally bought three dozen nugs?” the dwarf grinned. 

Senna let out a burst of laughter at the strangeness of it. Her eyes caught Solas when he looked for the disturbance, but he turned away almost as quickly. Did it really have to be like this? Was she really losing a friend over a mistake that never came to fruition?

She turned her attention back to Varric and let him regale her with his odd stories until Haven came within reach. He was a wonderful distraction, perhaps purposefully when she thought about it. He only stopped when Cullen greeted them from his station at the barracks. Senna stepped down from her horse, waved to the others, and asked him to meet with her in the war room. She'd made her decision.

Leliana and Josephine arrived not long after she did, and with the five of them gathered, announced that she would prefer if the templars accompanied her to the Breach.

“You're certain?” Leliana asked, almost skeptical, before anything else. 

Senna nodded, remembering the templar that floored her. “I misjudged the templar's abilities. They seem better suited to pushing the Fade back through the breach rather than overpowering it with more magic. Rather than fighting fire with fire, I think the templars would douse the Breach's power.”

“We still need a way to approach the Order. The Lord Seeker has made it clear he won't see us,” Cullen said. But Senna saw the pleased light in his eyes.

“The order has fallen back to Therinfal Redoubt,” Josephine said. “If we can gather enough support, we can approach him in his own fortress and force his hand.”

Senna scratched her head. “I guess so. Killing templars would leave less for us to work with, but -”

“Not fighting them!” Josephine cut in before Senna carried on with the wrong idea. “I meant support from the nobility, their financiers.”

“Oh! That makes more sense,” the mage admitted. 

Leliana smirked. “Combat won't be necessary to get us there, but we won't know what to expect from the Lord Seeker until he sees you.”

“Ugh, I don't want to see that creep,” Senna said, remembering his leering face. “Can't we just convince the templars to leave?”

“The best are also the most committed,” Cullen said. “They would not leave the order, even if they despised the current command. Their honor won't allow it.”

“Fair enough.”

They discussed the best way to approach Therinfal, and Senna was left on the outskirts of planning as Leliana and Josephine took over. Honestly, she didn't mind. They were far better at it than she was.  
Senna left late in the evening. Now she would have to wait until the women blackmailed and doted their way into enough nobility favor to commence the next part of the plan. In the meantime, her mind wandered back to Leliana's words about expecting a fight. With her new understanding of a templar's power, Senna wasn't convinced she could simply fight her way through. But she couldn't afford to be leveled like that again. There had to be some way for her to resist a templar's attack. 

So she approached Solas in the morning. Despite his coolness, and despite her own disappointment, Senna knew he would help her. She wouldn't lose him over a silly mishap. And she had a feeling simply telling him not to let it get in the way wouldn't work. 

“Do you know of a way to guard against a templar attack?” she began.

“I do,” he nodded, all business. His hands clenched briefly at his side.

“Would you be willing to teach me?”

For a moment Senna thought he would refuse. His frown deepened and he said, “Wouldn't you rather seek counsel from Vivienne? She has more experience with templars, having lived in a Circle.”

Senna shrugged. "I'm afraid she'd make me write up a small book on the subject before any real training started. It seemed to me you would get straight to the point."

"Yes,” he laughed. “An observation Madame De Fer would balk at, to be sure." 

With a wry smile, Solas took up his staff. When she moved to grab her own, he told her she wouldn't need it and beckoned her to follow him out of Haven. He walked carefully over the icy lake and stopped close to the center. Senna faced him.

“Your defensive magic is greatly lacking. Before you can learn any specific technique, you must hone the basics,” he explained. 

“I've only got a week before we'll be off fighting templars. There isn't time for basics,” Senna huffed. 

“Then you should learn quickly. Defend, in whatever way necessary.” With no further warning, Solas swung his staff. She cast a barrier before the fire hit. It only singed the edges of her clothes. 

Senna groaned. This was a terrible, terrible idea. 

She was doing well, she thought. Reflective barriers worked the best, thought they never lasted long. Solas was helpful too, coaching her movements and technique as they went. Senna had this. It was hard, sure, but nothing she couldn't handle. 

Then there was an echoing crack as the ice shifted under her feet. Senna looked and noticed portions of the lake were being melted down. She'd wondered why he was only using fire and it suddenly clicked in her mind that he wasn't just aiming at her the whole time. 

“H-hey! Wait a minute,” she called. 

He was already attacking again. “Focus.”

Senna pulled up another barrier and realized the fire dispersed against the ice, melting a bit of it in the process. This time he didn't try to hide what he was doing and aimed for the ice a meter to her left. If she had her staff, Senna could have just deflected it with an attack of her own. But she didn't. 

She scrambled and slipped across the ice, barely casting in time to move the fire up and away. He attacked again to her right. She did the same, running just in time to stop him from blasting a hole in their fighting ground. 

“Are you fucking trying to kill us?” she roared as she had to scramble back the other way once again. 

“Increase the range of your control. You should not need to sprint from place to place,” Solas responded. Apparently the idea of drowning in a freezing lake didn't bother him. 

“Bullshit, you know I'd need my staff for that,” she panted as she blocked another. 

“No, you have the capability. It is difficult but not impossible,” he said. 

Eventually, she did. After sprinting around in circles for far too long, Senna gave in and stopped. She focused her magic on the target area. The fire absorbed into her barrier as it ate most of the attack's power. Still, a deep groove was left in the ice. 

“Good. That will suffice for now,” Solas announced. He repaired the damage to the lake with an ice spell and turned to Senna with a small smile. She sat on the lake and tried to catch her breath, eventually falling onto her back, arms spread wide as she gasped in cold, biting breaths. 

“I'm sorry I ever asked,” she grumbled. He laughed. 

Solas stopped beside her and offered a hand. She stared at it for a moment, willing herself into more energy, and finally took it. He pulled her to her feet with ease. Senna glared. 

“Meet here the same time tomorrow. You have a lot to learn,” Solas said. She didn't trust the devious look in his eyes. Still, Senna was happy to see him smile again. He'd been so detached, even from the others, she was beginning to worry. 

For the next four days Solas subjected her to new and different methods of almost killing her. It made her question his sanity in the same breath as she admired his ingenuity. He certainly drew fast results from his teaching method. 

Their training was no secret either, and she soon found herself in the presence of an audience. Solas didn't seem to care as his only goal was increasing her abilities. Senna found it harder to ignore their observers, especially when Sera or Bull would boo him and make scathing comments meant to make her laugh. She did and her concentration broke more than once. She'd thought Solas would tell them to leave, but he only smiled and sometimes played along. Perhaps he knew before she did that she needed those breaks in tension. She didn't get many of them. 

It was good for others to see her fight as well, see that she was mortal. Sometimes a few soldiers would sit and observe on their breaks, sometimes people from Haven would come down to see their Herald at work. Cullen mentioned it in one of their meetings, saying it improved morale. 

“Really?” Senna said, eyebrows arched high in skepticism. How could seeing her get the daylights smacked out of her by an apostate lighten spirits? Aside from the obvious, perhaps.

“The people see your dedication to the cause,” Josephine explained. “It is easier to work hard when you see the person you depend on doing the same. They know they are not carrying all the weight.”

She still didn't get it but accepted the small blessing all the same. That particular meeting lasted well into the night and Senna was tired enough to lay down in her own cabin. Most nights she avoided the strangely soft bed, opting for the roof or a tree or sometimes camping outside of Haven altogether. This time she was tired enough to welcome it.

She awoke all at once. There was a fire lit in the hearth she hadn't remembered. It brightened the room in heady orange and warmed her down to the bone. 

Senna opened her door. Birdsong greeted her, more pronounced than she'd expected. She noticed the lack of snow, the soft dirt and tufts of grass in its stead. 

The Fade. She'd never been so caught off guard by it before. Usually she knew when she was entering and leaving it, but this time it greeted her so suddenly she forgot. And she'd never thought of Haven in the spring. She didn't know it would look like this and she wondered how she came to this season, this image at all. 

Senna took her time walking to the gate. No one was there but signs of life were all around, from the birds to the smoke of the cabins. She meandered out to the front of Haven and was surprised to see the barracks missing. There were only waves of long grass and a footpath to the logging stand. She wondered if this was a version of Haven in the past, before the Inquisition took up residence. 

Then she looked to the lake, deep blue and inviting, and saw a familiar figure seated on the dock. But no, that shouldn't be possible. They couldn't be here together, could they? Unless this was a demon trying to tempt her. If it was, wouldn't it have approached already? This Solas seemed oblivious to her presence. 

Senna stepped forward cautiously. Her toes slid between cool blades of grass, feeling more real than she was prepared for. The sky was clear and open. No Breach, no swirling clouds. It was beautiful here. Now she understood why the Temple of Sacred Ashes was built in such a place. 

Solas dragged his feet through the water, ripples spreading until they disappeared into the tranquil lake. He seemed to be in thought. But Senna couldn't wait. 

“Solas?”

He looked up, eyes questioning. “You surprise me again.”

“But . . . how?” was all she could say. 

“You sought me out. Perhaps I should be asking that,” he said. A smile, almost proud, sat on the edge of his lip and Senna couldn't help notice how bright his stormy eyes looked. 

“I don't know,” she confessed. “This has never happened before.”

He shrugged. “Then perhaps there are yet more powers in the mark you have left to discover.”

It was true her hand was glowing more strongly than normal. Another mystery to add to the list. Solas pat the wood next to him in an invitation. Senna joined him, careful to allow him some space. Her toes dipped into the lake as well. It was pleasantly cool as it swished across skin.

“I was watching a memory here,” Solas said. “A boy brought his sweetheart here for their first kiss. She became his lover and they regularly visited this spot to share their time together. The woman died in childbirth, and the man brought his son here to tell him stories of his mother. A spirit lingers here, carrying a part of her.”

Senna curled her toes in the cool water and frowned. She couldn't see the spirit he spoke of. “Is it here now?”

“No,” he said. "But she wanders nearby. Her love of the place keeps her.”

“She still loves it? Even after what she lost here?” Senna asked, more to herself than anything. 

“Perhaps to her the joy of what she knew outweighed the pain of what she couldn't have. There's a rare wisdom in it,” Solas said. 

Senna looked over the lake as silence settled between them. She could feel it when she tried. The spirit's peace was like a soft blanket over the place. No wonder she woke to the Fade in such contentment. How had she not seen it before?

“I feel it now. I wouldn't have known there was a spirit here if you hadn't said anything. How did you find it?” 

“I came to the Fade with no expectation. If you crossed over with an idea of what you would find, the Fade would reflect it. By removing my preconceptions, I opened the possibility to meet spirits that are more likely to hide, like the one here,” he explained.

“Isn't that dangerous?” Senna asked. 

“You needn't abandon sense as well. Take proper precautions, of course. But if you come looking for a demon you will certainly find one,” he said. 

She nodded. It was pleasantly silent once more. Senna was left to her thoughts and she realized something important, something that sent her shooting into a standing position. 

“Senna?” Solas asked at her sudden change. She was already jogging back down the dock. He twisted, curious. She stopped, dug her feet against the hard wood, and ran forward at full speed. Solas ducked out of the way just as she leapt and plunged straight into the water. 

Senna remembered hot summer days, sinking into rivers. It felt just the same as the cool liquid embraced her. Perhaps she didn't need to hold her breath, but she did anyway. And it was deeper than she thought. Or maybe she was too short. Either way her feet wouldn't touch the bottom when she reached for the air. Her head broke the surface and she laughed. 

“Is there a reason you decided to jump into the lake?” Solas asked, leaning his elbows on his knees, legs still dangling over the water. 

“In case you forgot, it's winter in the real world. This lake is an icy rock. I thought I'd enjoy a taste of home while I had it,” she explained. She ran her fingers through wet hair, pushing all the wayward strands from her face. “Well? Come on.”

His brow quirked. “No, that's quite alright.”

Senna slapped water in his direction. “Don't be a stick in the mud. You're allowed to have fun, you know.”

“Yes, but we seem to have different definitions of the word.” But he was smiling. She hadn't seen that enough on him lately. 

“Then your definition is terrible,” she teased. 

“I take great offense to that,” he said dryly. Senna grinned, then gathered her mana, much easier to do in the Fade. With a shove she forced a small wave up and over the dock to drench her companion. Solas, now completely wet, barely reacted as Senna laughed. 

There was a glint in his eye, a smirk on the edge of his lip, and he was diving straight into the water. 

“Ha!” Senna said. She expected him to come up to the surface but the longer she waded, the more she wondered if one could breathe underwater in a Fade dream. “Solas?”

All of a sudden there were two hands at her waist and she shrieked before being yanked underwater. 

Senna came up again quickly, spluttering, and found Solas next to her. She was only a little upset to see him standing easily. The water stopped at his shoulders. 

“I still win,” she announced. 

“If you choose to believe so,” he said. Was he being smug?

“I do. You are in the lake, after all. And you said it wasn't fun.”

“I will admit the idea of jumping into a dream lake never crossed my mind,” he said. 

Senna laughed. “As long as it got you to smile. You've been so grim lately, I thought I'd lost a friend.” 

“You will always have me, if I am able,” Solas replied. 

Senna gave him a dim smile. It was hard to remember he already told her no. “Are you sweet talking me on purpose?” 

And their bodies were almost touching. Water dripped from his jaw and clung to his neck and the top of his head. She could feel it on herself as well, sliding out of her hair down her cheeks. She shivered as one cold drop traced the back of her neck. 

“No, I . . . can't,” he finished lamely. But even he didn't believe it. That was the only reason Senna lost her patience, the reason she braced her hands on his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him. His lips were warm, soft, the hint of a breath touching her mouth. 

Her eyes fell open again and searched his gaze. That was stupid of her. She knew. She already knew. Yet she couldn't resist at least one kiss, it seemed. Solas hummed and his playful grin rushed to meet her lips. 

Oh. So it was like that. 

His arm curled around her hips, pulling her close as his mouth pressed hers again. And she opened her lips before he could ask. Her fingers cupped his jaw, reaching for something solid as he took her invitation and dragged his tongue across her own, letting her taste him. Her leg hooked around his waist to keep her from sinking in the water. He groaned when their bodies completely connected. Senna nibbled his hot lip before returning her attention to his wandering tongue. He slanted his mouth over hers, pulling her in with his need and desperation. 

Solas moved forward and her back pressed the wooden dock post. She was able to hold herself up better. It gave him the opportunity to push his thigh between her legs. Senna sucked in a breath from his lips, feeling the press on her clit that made her core beat. Her fingers curled and found purchase just behind his ear. His own hand slid through wet locks of her hair as his tongue curved across the top of her mouth. 

Solas pulled back then, just enough to catch her eyes. Desire, regret, uncertainty. He wasn't so hard to read when he was so close. Senna wasn't willing to let him go, so she grasped his neck and kissed him again. But his passion diminished. He brushed her lips twice, gently, filled with a longing so subtle and fierce it felt more powerful than the crushing need of their first kiss. 

Then he was gone, shaking his head as if at himself. He breathed, licked his lips. “We shouldn't- I shouldn't. It isn't right.”

Senna gulped in a breath and tried to understand. Her whole body thrummed with heat and the need at her core. She held herself up as Solas slowly removed himself, backed away. The water weaved into the empty space between them.

“Solas,” she started. But the walls were already building up again. 

“I'm sorry,” he said with finality. His voice was cool but his eyes were storming and they still belonged to her. 

“You don't have to be,” Senna said. 

“I . . . I've kept you long enough. It would be best if you wake up.”

She felt a sharp pull at her navel and she did.


	5. Burning Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fade kiss and another round of hellish training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Therinfal, so prepare yourselves ^_~
> 
> Chapter edited.

It was early. Very early. Too early for most to be awake, yet here she was, staring at her hands in her lap and wondering just what happened. 

No, Senna knew. It was real, all of it. Her knowledge and opinion of the Fade had been forced to change since the conclave. This was just one more thing to add to the list. 

Still, this was different. This was . . . him. Senna wished she could remember it: the feel, the taste of him, and the cool water dripping from his skin as his heat threatened to consume them both. As expected of a dream, it lingered on the edge of knowing. She knew the memory, but not the feeling. It bothered her as much as it relieved her. 

For as much as she wanted it, the reluctance on Solas was unmistakable. Had she pushed him? No, that couldn't be right. He'd wanted as shamelessly as she had. But something was holding him back. Whether that was due to her or something else on his mind was yet to be discovered. She only needed to speak with him to find out. 

Still, she made an effort to quell her own emotions. She didn't want to assume, and there were far more important things going on. They were supposed to train together again today. This new ripple would certainly color the experience an interesting shade. 

Senna tried to be patient. The sun wasn't up yet. She knew he was awake. He had to be. Was it too early? It was probably too early. She needed to get out. To do. To not be holed up here. 

With that she was gone. Beyond Haven, circled around the frozen lake – feeling warm again at just the thought of it – and out past the furthest edge of the town to where the druffalo buried their noses in fresh snow to pick at dead tufts of grass. Most of them were still asleep and Senna tread lightly to a jagged boulder that stood high against the tundra. She clambered to the top. Her friend the moon was gone, but the stars still burned. Senna passed the rest of darkness mapping the constellations and recalling the stories that accompanied them, the stories of her gods. She would need to remember them for when she returned home. 

Of course, she would go home. After the Breach. When her cursed power was no longer required, when the shemlen could care for themselves, she would be welcomed back by her clan. She would share the story and perhaps they would pass it down through generations. Or not. It didn't matter. What mattered is she would be with her people, her home, her . . . .

Senna wondered about Solas. Wondered if he would go with her, if he would be willing. Because he didn't have anyone, did he? And the Dalish had not been kind to him. Admittedly, she'd been off-put at first, and she knew she still got defensive about certain things, but her clan was more open than others. They would be willing to hear him. Or at least to hear her on his behalf. Perhaps she could convince him. 

The druffalo snuffled and brayed with the dawn. Life was wakening. Senna could smell the familiar ash on the wind as the night's fires were kindled anew. She should return. 

“Good morning,” his voice called from the ground. 

Senna thought she'd had enough time to compose herself, but her smile couldn't be dimmed. Was she a child now? “Come to enjoy the beautiful Ferelden landscape with me?”

Solas chuckled at her obvious sarcasm. At least he wasn't upset. “Yes, I especially enjoy the blinding light reflecting off the snow.”

Senna jumped down to stand next to him. Her cheeks were tinged with cold and a sudden warmth of new affection. His eyes were open to her, playful and bright. They dimmed a moment later. His weight swayed to one hip. “But you know why I came.”

“This is where I'm supposed to apologize. I'm not sorry though.” She flushed, remembering the skill of his tongue. 

He faltered for a heartbeat. “I understand. However, it was a mistake. I shouldn't have encouraged it.”

“Why?” 

“I . . . would not distract you from your duty. It would be selfish to begin a relationship when we do not know what awaits,” he said, shifting his weight again.

“You mean if I die?” Senna said with a grim smile. She held up her left hand. It was always a possibility. She poured the power of the mark into the Breach and it just sucked the rest of her life along with it. “Yes, that would be selfish of me.”

“It is possible. Doubtful after the mark has been stable so long,” he said. “But that is beside the point.”

Her head tilted as she scrutinized him. “I've never been kissed like that before.”

“Yes, well.” He shuffled, cheeks tinged pink with more than the cold. “It has been a long time. And things have always been easier for me in the Fade.”

“Yet you say you didn't mean anything by it.” Senna frowned. 

“I did not say that. I said it was a mistake,” Solas said. 

She didn't know what to say to that. She was having a strong sense of deja vu. Was fate really circling around on her? This was remarkably similar to the circumstances that split her relationship with another man years before. Only this time she was on the receiving end. So she couldn't be upset with Solas when she had once told a man she couldn't love him for duty's sake, when it was so obvious she wanted to be with him.

“Alright,” she finally admitted. “Then we won't speak of it again.”

He nodded, pleased, though it seemed the answer gave him no relief. “Thank you.”

Senna gave him distance, trying to keep herself neutral, and turned toward Haven. “I need to eat. I'll meet you for practice afterwards?”

“Of course,” he said. She left, her fingers curling. It was ridiculous. She should have told him that. He couldn't even do her the courtesy of saying he didn't like her. Even if he didn't mean it. 

No, a part of her was glad he didn't lie. She could call it what she wanted but he had obviously already decided before he came to speak with her. 

She only wished his decision was different.

“You're up early, Sunflower.”

“Hm?” Senna hadn't been paying attention and ended up in the tavern. She looked at Varric, his work spread out on the table in front of him. Iron Bull sat leaned back nearby. He looked hungover. Not that that was unusual. 

“Yeah, training with Solas,” she explained. His name felt suddenly strange on her tongue. 

“Mages still going at it?” Bull grumbled. “You wouldn't think it looking at him, but Solas knows what he's doing. Every 'lesson' is geared to beat out an area of weakness he's seen in your defenses. Kinda jealous, honestly.”

“You could ask him,” she suggested. Senna pulled over a hunk of hardened bread sitting just past Varric's scribbled notes. 

“Yeah, ask the mage how to hit things better. No thanks. I meant the training, not the instructor,” Bull said.

Senna snorted. That anyone would be jealous of her getting beaten and nearly thrown off of cliffs – literally – was too far fetched for her to believe. Well, it was Iron Bull. He liked some weird stuff.

“What are you working on?” Senna turned her attention to Varric. 

“The next project. Figure I can't do worse than keep a record of our adventures here. With some artistic flair, of course.”

“You're writing a story about us?” she asked.

“About you, yes. Don't worry. I've had plenty of experience writing about Hawke's crazy life. Just a couple more demons this time around,” Varric said. 

“Oh yeah. The Champion story. I forgot about that.” Senna tried not to think about the fact that Varric had been paying attention to everything she did to immortalize on paper. Yes, best not to worry about that. 

“Take it you haven't read it?” He smiled. 

“Ah, no. Haven't really had the time,” she said. 

Bull gave a short laugh. “No shit.”

“I'll get you a copy. When the Breach is closed you'll have all your free time back,” Varric said. 

“Thanks, Varric.” She hoped he was right. 

Senna stood. “Alright, time to go get my ass handed to me.”

“I'll come with you,” Bull said. He towered over her slight frame. In the beginning it bothered her. It was a testament to how long she'd been among this varied group of people that she didn't even flinch now. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing the weird shit Solas cooks up,” he answered. Senna shook her head. She could agree with that.

Senna gathered her determination and headed back out of Haven's gates. She hadn't forgotten her conversation with Solas this morning. Far from it. And if she was going to survive, let alone succeed, she would have to shove every feeling she had for the apostate to the back of her mind. 

So when she reached the older elf, she greeted him with a nod and a pleasant 'good morning' as if they hadn't spoken already that morning. He, too, regarded her with a professionalism she could only parrot. Solas led her to the edge of the barracks. A hastily built scaffold leading nowhere and building nothing stood against the snow. Senna looked at it with a wary eye. She could only guess at its purpose. 

“You have managed to hone your defensive magic to some degree,” Solas said, hands clasped as they stood before the ladder leading up. Bull sat down against Haven's wall and stretched his arms behind his head. Solas continued. “Today you will need to take it a step further and focus your barrier only where needed. So far you have wasted a great deal of energy covering a wide area. This exercise will require precision.”

Senna nodded. A hard winter wind swept through the camp and the wood creaked as the whole scaffold swayed. Great. Solas took the first rung and began to climb. Senna followed. 

At first she looked up. Then she couldn't. 

That wasn't true. She wanted to but Bull was watching and a few soldiers were sending curious glances at them and it wouldn't do for the Herald of Andraste to be caught staring at an apostate's ass, however much she liked it. She'd never indulged the thought before, but he did have a nice rump. No, she shouldn't be thinking about it. Senna stared at each rung as she passed. 

They reached the top. Solas crouched against the wooden planks to gain his balance, then stood. Senna mimicked him, watching his posture. His knees bent to sway with each wayward movement of the scaffold. The wind was stronger up here. It didn't feel that high up, but it was far enough from the ground that the wind reacted differently and falling would cause real damage. Not to mention the whole thing was unstable. 

Senna stood on wobbling legs and faced her instructor. For the first time she noticed he was without his staff. That didn't bode well. 

“We will start simply,” he eased. “Magic won't be necessary. This will be about balance.”

Solas raised his arms with open fists and brought one foot back. Senna stared. “You're shitting me.”

“I suggest you follow, unless you'd like me to knock you off before we begin,” he smiled. Senna should have known by now that he enjoyed this, enjoyed teasing her and pushing at her comfort zones. With a scowl, she mirrored him. Solas reached out and pushed her elbows and knees to a firmer stance with hands that felt too warm to Senna. Satisfied, he resumed his place. 

He warned her before each pass, slow and careful. It took her a moment to get used to blocking with her hands rather than her staff, but she managed. Except for a few hard sways that set her heart on edge, she kept her balance quite well. Then Solas hardened his brow and swung with real force. Senna stepped back before she thought it through. Her heel fell over the edge of the plank. With a stilled breath she prepared for the fall. She bounced off an invisible wall and stumbled forward.

Solas frowned. “No, you cannot retreat. You must defend. I will not protect you again.”

“Sorry.” Senna knew to take him at his word. She understood now why they were up there. She would just back away if given the chance. Here there was none. She reminded herself of his original admonition and faced him with new focus. 

At first it was fists – a barrier over her hand to take the brunt of it because she couldn't – then he threw an elbow at her, a knee, obviously skilled with hand to hand combat in a way she hadn't expected. In an instant the distraction came upon her. She was all too aware of how close he was, how he reached for her, his grace and his focus, and the tilt of his lip even as his brow creased in the opposite direction. She could kiss him here, in flesh, grounded by reality and cold winter snow. Would he be angry? Or would that surprising passion break through again? 

His blow came swift beneath her ribcage, somewhere between chest and stomach. Senna wheezed, her heels lifted, balance upset. He really hadn't held anything back. She would fall, and in that moment her instinct worked. A barrier sprung beside her to cushion and reset her. But Solas didn't relent for a second. His foot swept at her ankle to trip her. Something clicked then, something that had hovered on the edge of understanding for the last few days. The barrier she summoned was not by her hand but her whole being, her mana warped close beside her at the exact spot she needed it, and it absorbed then pushed back with equal force. For the first time Solas was driven off balance. Surprise flit across his expression, he caught himself with ease, then pride settled on his lips and the edge of his eyes. 

“You exceed my expectation,” he said, voice strong as he relented. It was over. “I did not think you would realize the offensive potential of this technique so soon.”

Senna gasped a laugh. “Didn't have much of a choice, did I?” 

She sat down, hand on her aching chest as exhaustion settled in the aftermath. 

“You took a step further than necessary. If you remember it, tomorrow will be that much easier and your ability on the battlefield will be strengthened,” Solas said. 

Senna groaned. “Can we just take a day off tomorrow?” 

“Doubtful. There is little time left, and tomorrow we address your original concern,” Solas smiled. He left. 

Senna trembled on her way back to the ground, her body aching with the strain of strengthening. It was the good kind of hurt, at least. She placed a healing hand to the forming bruise on her chest. The remainder of her fatigue required rest. Senna would not be allowed it so easily. 

After a short conversation with Bull, in which the qunari expressed both his respect for her training and excitement for the coming battle, she was called to the Chantry to meet with Cassandra and the others. They were ready, she was told, to approach the Lord Seeker. The nobles would meet them at Therinfal in four day's time. That left two days to prepare and two days to travel. The timing couldn't have been any better. For once, Senna was hopeful of what the coming days would bring.


	6. Consumed by Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas ruminates on Senna, plays chess, and eventually loses himself to the demon at Therinfal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, this was so much fun :D I think you're really going to like this. 
> 
> Warnings ahoy: sexual content begins here. Pretty tame at this point but it's ALLLL downhill from here ^_~
> 
> Chapter edited.

She burned brighter than anything he'd yet seen in this age. In the beginning, when she slept and the anchor he unwittingly bestowed threatened to consume her, she was just another lost child, another mistake, another scarred face to mock his once good intent. 

He wasn't there to see her awaken, but he liked to imagine it was with a blaze, proud and bright, set against Cassandra's judgement. When he did meet her she was exactly as he expected and yet nothing like what he assumed. 

She was a quick little mage and her skill was nothing if not ferocious. Her first glance at him had been of skepticism and scorn: he was not like her and therefore lesser, like all Dalish thought when he encountered them. In that sense she met every mark on his list. Dalish and proud to many faults. Perhaps he couldn't blame them. He was, after all, also proud to be one of the People, but his pride was warranted and theirs was a twisted wretch of a thing, so deformed as to be unrecognizable from its origin. She bristled when he said it, as they all did (the truth was something foreign and sour), but to his surprise she admitted it, admitted their loss with a sorrow that touched his own. In that regard she was a woman after his heart. Though she professed his friends as gods and made ritual of sacrilege, she sought the truth he offered with a studious spirit and he knew she committed the words to memory as her Keeper taught her how. 

In ways she reminded him of his youth. A quick temper and faster mouth, a propensity for action before thought. Traits they once shared were now memories of rash decisions for him, and future regrets for her. Well, perhaps. Senna sought wisdom in a way he had not, and showed foresight and leadership to balance her natural fire. She wouldn't gain half the admiration she had without it. He supposed the skill came with her role as First before the conclave and the gravity with which she accepted it. 

She was like that with many things, this push and pull of expectation. Solas could predict her move and her thought, then he couldn't. He would be loath to admit he'd turned it into a game, seeing if she would break the mold or fall into it. He'd been surprised on many occasions. The kiss was one of them. He'd taken her flirtation, her misplaced affection in stride and thought the matter settled despite the churning want in his own skin. She asked much of him. He couldn't afford the indulgence, because that was all it could be, all it was allowed to be. And here he was, nearly pleading for space after he _had_ indulged. The Fade made a child of him, and like a child he'd touched cinders as if it wouldn't burn. There were consequences, now more than in the past, and she couldn't understand what she refused to regret. She would if she knew. The thought steeled him. 

So they danced. Cold reality grounded him from her eyes, brighter and more green than the mark on her hand, her focus a thin veneer over the impatience as she tried to puzzle together his motive. He had confused her, he knew. And he regretted his own lack of control that sent it all in motion. If he were stronger, firmer, he would have denied her and turned away. Instead his lips made lies of his actions. He tried to create distance, but that was impossible considering she had come to him for help before he made a mess of things. Still, he made an attempt. And she unwittingly circled him, waiting like a hunter for his weakness to show. When it did she would strike and consume him with every ounce of the passion she withheld. He liked the idea more than he dared admit. Her respect for him was greater. It humbled and assured him. 

“Your barrier is weak on the left side. Do not use your staff as a crutch to conserve energy. When this technique becomes necessary, the strength of your barrier is more important,” he instructed. Senna took his words and used them. 

When she was ready he sent another mind blast at her, the placeholder for a templar's smite. She failed many times and learned with each one until he was satisfied with the speed and shape of her casting. It was a deterrent, not a foolproof guard. To that extent it was sufficient. He warned her as much. 

She nodded. The sweat cooled on her brow. In a moment of thoughtlessness he reached for her bangs. Stopped. Pressed his fingers to his palm. Clasped his hands behind his back to keep them captive. 

Senna smiled, coy. Her fingers swept the hair aside. He frowned. She'd known even though he barely twitched in her direction. She said nothing with her lips. Her body shifted as lithe fingers wrapped around her staff. With a tenseness unbecoming of her, Senna took a half step back. 

“If that is all, I have other matters to attend,” he said. Her eyes wavered, succumbed, glanced at his lips and back in a blink. His nails bit into the opposite hand. 

“Of course. Thank you, Solas,” she said. 

He left. Left to solitude and meditation, old friends that would guide him out of this. They did not. Infatuation was a stronger beast. In desperation, he sought distraction in companionship, something still quite foreign. Commander Cullen was willing to oblige him with a few rounds of chess and Solas couldn't have expressed his gratefulness enough – or at all, given the circumstance. 

“I have to say, I'm impressed with your training method,” Cullen said as he leaned over the board and carefully moved a pawn. He'd lost once only to return with thoughtful movements.

“Unorthodox, yes. Senna has responded well to great pressure in other arenas. It was not a far stretch.” Solas pushed his mage forward in accord with a strategy five steps ahead. 

“Can't say it would work for everyone. I assume there were always safeguards?” Cullen glanced up at him, unsure. 

Solas smiled at his doubt. “Naturally.” 

“If my recruits gave half as much as she did, we'd have a fine army.” The click of a piece on the board. 

“Necessity often breeds success, but that is not always the case. I have seen your men. They give what they are able,” Solas said. He took a pawn. 

“True enough. Though I wish they'd stop- well,” the commander stopped and glanced at the door as his pale cheeks flushed. Solas's hand stilled briefly over his queen before he made a move. She would have noticed. Cullen did not. 

“There is a beautiful woman at the heart of the Inquisition. I can imagine what you deal with.” Solas tried to add a lightness to his voice. It worked. The commander relaxed. 

“It's deplorable. Pictures keep circulating and I haven't found the culprit. She's not the only one, of course, but the Dalish are . . . exotic to many. I only wish they'd show more respect.” His forces were not the only ones distracted by Senna, it seemed. Cullen made a quick move under his errant thoughts. He frowned as Solas took advantage of it. 

“Healthy desire can be a form of respect,” the elf said, more to placate himself than his companion. 

“You condone it?” Cullen asked quickly in surprise. 

“No.” Solas moved a pawn. Checkmate was two steps away. “I mean to say desire is not disrespectful by nature. And you must remember these soldiers do not know her personally as we do. Distance fosters crude imaginings in place of knowledge.”

“I suppose you're right. As long as it never reaches the women, I'll be happy. Cassandra would lop off a few heads if she knew,” Cullen smiled. 

Solas chuckled at the mental image. He moved his rook into place and glanced up with a smug smile. “Checkmate. Care to go again?”

Cullen looked over the board as if he would see an opening, sat back, and shook his head. “I've lost enough for one night.”

“Another time, then.”

The distraction was not enough. Solas could hardly sleep for his thoughts and desires. Several times he caught himself trying to fashion some excuse, some way to make the idea of a relationship anything other than self serving. No. He wouldn't misuse her. Senna did not deserve that from him. 

His sleep was less than peaceful, but in the morning they traveled for Therinfal Redoubt. He spent his time with Blackwall and Varric. Giving space, needing space. Senna snorted at Vivienne's explanation of The Game, watched Sera talk in circles, glanced at him in a hunter's test. He gave, indulged in conversation once, then retreated before he was burned. She respected him with a smile and wordless agreement. He almost couldn't stand it. 

It was drizzling and stormy when they arrived at Therinfal. Solas frowned. His hood was of almost no use. He kept shivering as cold rain drops fell on the exposed tips of his ears, then danced in the curves of skin until he had to press his palm against it to ease the ticklish feeling. 

He looked to Senna. Her head was bare to the rain. It seemed to make little difference to her. He watched it trail down her neck to her collar, remembered cold water between hot lips, and looked away.

The nobles did their duty, which amounted to standing around looking important, and Senna's team approached the gate. 

If there was a templar in the Order still worthy of carrying the name, it was Barris. He greeted them with a reluctance similar to their own. He allayed some of their fears, and Senna's most of all. She followed him into the courtyard with personable steps. Solas bit back a warning to stay on guard. 

The templar explained the ritual of standards the Lord Seeker requested Senna perform. 

“We'd be honored, if that is what the Lord Seeker asks of the Inquisition,” she said with practiced words he knew felt strange on her tongue. 

Barris frowned and stepped closer as if to hide their conversation. “Not the Inquisition. The Lord Seeker changed everything to meet you, not the inquisition, you. By name.”

“Why?” And Solas could see her jaw clench. 

“I don't know. He's been _fixated_ on you since he heard of your arrival,” Barris admitted. 

Solas watched her tense, watched her think. He remembered Val Royeaux. He imagined the Lord Seeker had been fixated for far longer than Barris knew. Not for the first time, he questioned Senna's decision to seek out the templars. 

She agreed to perform the rite. He wasn't the only one curious about her choices, and when Barris asked, Senna replied that the reasoning was her own. He hid a smile at her cheek.

Inside, things quickly descended to chaos. Barris may have been sane and loyal, but that was not the case for all the templars. Then again, they came expecting resistance. 

“The Elder One is coming,” the knight-captain announced. Solas was certain he alone had a fair guess at the Elder One's identity.

The fought their way up through the fortress, discovering the depths of the Order's corruption by red lyrium all the while. 

“There, the main hall,” Barris said, pointing at the top of a long set of stone steps. 

“And it looks like the Lord Seeker is waiting for us,” Senna said, grip tight on her staff. Her eyes burned with desired vengeance. Solas briefly considered stopping her if she attempted to set the Seeker on fire. They needed him. But the satisfaction was more appealing.

They hurried upwards. It was only at the middle of the stairs that Solas realized their folly. The Lord Seeker turned, his arm raised – a signal – and a grin. 

“Get back!” he warned. A hasty barrier. An explosion. Chunks of rock sprayed the air, clipped his head. Smoke consumed them. Darkness.

He only knew he'd passed out when he awoke. Two red templars dragged him through the dark over damp stone. 

His staff was missing but he wasn't defenseless. Solas froze the arm of one, gained his balance as they let go, and faced the second. The templar unsheathed his sword and struck. Solas evaded his blade and slammed the human's arm between his hand and elbow, hitting a pressure point and rendering it useless. The sword dropped only long enough for the mage to pick it up. The second templar had recovered. Solas sent a blast of fire at his face and as he cried in pain ran the sword straight through. The other templar fell as quickly. 

He stood alone in a dark hall. Whether it was a dungeon or a tomb, he couldn't say. In any case, he dropped the sword in favor of his staff and started out in the direction they'd just come from. Hopefully it would lead to the exit. 

The stone reflected blue as he touched a hand to heal the gash on his head. Why was he alone? Were the others captured? And where was the Lord Seeker? His stomach fell at the thought of Senna's predicament and he hurried his steps. 

He rounded two corners and came face to face with five templars, faces veined in red. Solas cursed low, set a barrier, attacked even as he stepped back. Distance would be his only chance at victory. They still came for him, swords drawn. Though the tight space was his ally and they couldn't all attack him together. Two was enough to keep him defending, his staff parrying their strikes. He should have kept the sword. 

The first smite was obvious. He'd kept an eye on the three in the back and caught sight when one took the familiar stance. Solas blocked it with the same barrier he'd shown to Senna, stronger than the one she used. 

But it ate at his mana. The second, too, he stopped. It cracked the edges of his barrier. The third broke it completely and flung him on his back as his magic rippled and scattered into nothing. Dizzy, Solas tried to sit up. He could still fight. He still had his fists. 

A sabaton slammed against his chest, winded him, pushed him back down. Solas reached for it but another foot crushed his wrist against the stone. 

“That's the one, isn't he? How'd he get out?” one of the templars said. Why would they want him?

“Dunno. Bet the Lord Seeker's waiting though,” another answered. Solas struggled, unwilling to lay down for his captors, as they hauled him up and marched him back the way he came. One in front, two behind, two holding his arms. Aching, head thrumming, now with no magic, he stumbled along until a dim light shone. They stepped through an arched doorway into a room lit only by torches and candlelight. A tomb. 

The Lord Seeker was there, a harsh grin on his lips. Solas observed the room. There was no one else and the place was untouched, long since covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, save a metal cage with wards already set upon and around it. Meant for him, no doubt. Did they know what he was? How could they have found out?

He straightened. The templars released him. Solas refused to speak as the Lord Seeker neared. 

“Finally,” the man growled. He gripped Solas's shirt and pushed. The elf stumbled back, out of reality and into himself. 

He was alone in a courtyard of arched stone and short grass, darkened in mottled green light. This was not what he expected. 

Even here his body ached, but he stepped forward. A likeness of Senna appeared from behind one pillar. He stilled. It wasn't her, of course. Eyes dead with a gleam of malicious delight on her lip.

“Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?” it mocked. 

“Perhaps I should have known it was a demon,” Solas replied, his relief tucked safely away. His secret was safe. “What are you? Desire?”

“Would you like that I was?” it returned. “Being you will give me what I desire.”

The demon approached, hips swayed. “Tell me what you think. Tell me what you feel.” It touched his chest in a mockery of delicacy. Solas grasped the hand in a tight lock. It smiled and purred, “Tell me what you see.”

“You are a poor copy,” he said. 

The demon laughed. It slipped away and he was left alone. Solas moved towards the door at the end of the way, resolved despite the trembling weakness on his skin. The only way out was forward.

He passed through and came to a nondescript room. An image of himself and Senna played for him. He remembered the moment well. It was at a tavern on the road to Val Royeaux, and it was the first time he truly admitted his affection.

“You know, I _do_ respect you, Solas,” she said with a small grin. Always teasing him. 

“Do you?” the image of him replied.

“Of course. You stayed to close the Breach, and you've tried to help as many people as you could, even ones I didn't think deserved it . . . I mean, you helped me grow. I appreciate that you confronted me at the Crossroads. I needed it. And, well, I'm glad to have you around.”

Solas pushed against his feeling. He couldn't give the demon anything. 

“I see imitation is all you have to offer,” he said. 

“Accusing, trying to find my weakness. Is that the kind of man you are?” the demon said with another laugh. 

Perhaps he was wrong and it wasn't a desire demon. Solas pressed forward to the next door. It opened for him. He stopped. 

A copy of himself, the demon in his place, and Senna with her body pressed so close to it. 

“Please, Solas,” she pleaded against the demon. “Take me.”

“No other will have you. Only me.” His own lips moved with the copy's declaration. She pressed her mouth to it, much like the kiss they shared. 

His brow furrowed in thought even as jealousy sparked against his heart. It was only an image. Nothing more. 

“You desire her?” he mumbled aloud. That was unusual. He'd never known of a demon that wanted a person. Their body for possession or material power, yes. But the person as they were, body and spirit? He could not believe it was the case. So perhaps it was drawing on his own feelings for Senna, twisting it and shoving it back at him to weaken his resolve. That was the only answer Solas was willing to entertain.

The demon was silent but there was a whisper of sound behind him as he reached for the next door. It was only when he saw what lay before him that the repeated chorus of “mine” registered in his ears. 

It was a scene he'd imagined only once. He'd banished it quickly and it seemed the demon found it. The night in the Hinterlands, by the fire alone with her, he'd been tempted, so tempted. She was barely clothed and leaned into him with soft touches on his chest. In reality he backed away. Here, in the reflection of his thought, he took her. 

His heart squirmed at the detail; of the firelight glowing warm on her bare back, of her knees digging against dirt as she embraced him with her whole body. She took him into herself, an undulation of skin and muscle made more erotic by the sight of her fingers dug into his copy's back and neck. He'd imagined her licking her lips in need. Suddenly his name rose from her lips in a prayer and a plea. 

Solas, the real Solas, turned away with a heat trembling across his abdomen. No. He was stronger than this. He took a breath from a deep reservoir of self control and moved on.

The next door opened to a hallway of open doors. He passed the first. His likeness had her on his bed in Haven. The next open doorway showed him taking her on a wall. Her head tilted back and she screamed just before Solas passed on. He rushed by each door and every one showed them tangled together with lust and need, and she cried his name each time in pleased praise. It was a hymn and a cacophony all at once. 

“I will have her a thousand times in a thousand ways,” the demon promised in his own voice, taunting him with the scattered memories of his desire. 

Solas tightened his lip against what he might say. The demon couldn't know how this affected him. It would use it to its own gain. If that gain was Senna's body, he would never forgive himself for allowing the demon even an inch. Though in his current state, after suffering the templar's attack, as well as the growing weakness in his resolve, he shouldn't make even that promise to himself. He knew the shuddering of his body was no longer simply fatigue. 

There was no way out at the end of the hall. To his right the room was empty so he stepped inside. It was his room in Haven. A door appeared after he entered. Solas quickly pushed it shut, leaning against the wood to catch his breath. Senna's voice stilled to silence. 

The thrumming heat had barely left his skin before she appeared again. The sincerity in Senna's eyes almost fooled him, but the spark of passion was missing. 

“Ma vhenan, ma eth'an,” she said, leaning into his stilted breath. He couldn't back away as her cool nose touched his. “Na uhellathenen tu'souveri. Sahlin, in ar hamin. Ir haminan'him. Varsa inan.”

He leaned forward, only barely, only for a heartbeat, but their lips brushed before he could catch himself.

He lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My heart, my safe place. Your lonely struggles have made you weary. Now rest with me. I can become your resting place. This dwelling is only for us."
> 
> Anyone with a better grasp of the language is welcome to correct. I translated the thought/intent rather than the literal meaning.


	7. Envy's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leaves Therinfal and Solas confesses to Senna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesomesauce. Just sayin'

Someone was screeching in her ear. Senna groaned, rolled her ear away from cold stone, and opened her eyes. No, no one was screeching. It was a hard ring in the depths of her ear. She shook her head to dispel it, once, twice. It didn't work so she tried to ignore the tinning.

She pushed herself up and looked over the room: a prison. Senna looked outside the bars into a dimly lit hall. No one was there and she could see the cell across from her was empty. Her staff was by the door, just out of reach. She pressed her forehead against cold metal. 

“Great.”

Despite the explosion, she was fairly unharmed. The barrier Solas instinctively cast probably saved her life and anyone else caught in the blast. She would have to thank him when she saw him. Because she would. Because he was fine and they were all alive and they would get out of Therinfal with the templars on their side. That was the plan. That was how it was supposed to be. 

And she couldn't just sit around waiting for someone to find her. She was the Herald, she was the Keeper of the Inquisition, and her people needed her. 

Senna placed a hand on the lock of her cell. She regretted never learning any lockpicking skills from Varric or Sera, but maybe her magic would work in its stead. She pressed fire into the metal, as hot as she could make it, until her mana strained with the effort and the black iron glowed with heat. She stepped back, braced her hands on the bars and kicked the lock with all her strength. The door screeched, buckled a fraction. She hit it again. Again, it moved only enough to give her hope. The third kick did nothing. 

It was a long process of heating and pushing at the door. She worried her mana would run dry before she had a chance to escape, but after the fourth round of kicking the door out, it gave way with a snap. The door swung on its hinges and crashed against the wall. Finally. 

Senna immediately took up her staff. So far things had been surprisingly silent, and that worried her more than if she'd heard a war outside. Still, she needed to find the others, find out what was going on, and hopefully put an end to the Lord Seeker. She was really looking forward to that last one. 

The hall was empty of guards but there were more doors that she assumed led to other prison cells. She was correct, though the first room was empty. In the second she found Varric. 

“Senna! What's going on?” He pressed against the bars as she approached. 

“I'm not sure. Are you hurt?” 

“A few bumps but I'm not complaining. Have you seen anyone else?” he asked. 

Senna frowned. “No, and it's been too quiet. There aren't even guards posted.”

“Shit,” he grumbled. “Can you get me out? Those bastards took Bianca.”

With her staff to channel her power it was much easier to blast the lock off the door. Varric stepped out. They both looked for a suitable weapon for him but found none. 

“Just stay behind me. I promise we'll get Bianca back,” Senna said. 

Varric rolled his shoulders, obviously unhappy with the arrangement. “Hope you're right. I feel naked without her. And I don't want to think about what those damn templars will do with her.”

They heard footsteps, fast and loud outside. Senna tensed and her grip wrung tight around her staff. She cast a barrier over them. Then, a familiar voice. 

“Search every cell. Find the Herald,” Barris ordered. 

Her heart lifted and she reached for the door, throwing it open. The motion was apparently too quick. She got a glimpse of Cassandra's cheeks before the Seeker attacked on instinct. Just as fast, Senna blocked with her staff. 

“Nice to see you too,” she teased.

“Senna!” Cassandra backed away with an apology. 

Senna looked over the hall, now cramped with templars and some of her team members. Barris approached as soon as he saw her. 

“Lady Herald,” he greeted with a salute. 

“Ser Barris, I'd like a report. What's happened?”

“During the explosion we were ambushed by red templars. When the dust settled you and three of your companions were missing. We fought our way here to find you. This wing of the prison hasn't been used in ages. I'm not sure why they would bring you here,” he said.

“Who's still unaccounted for?” Senna pressed. 

“Blackwall and Solas,” Cassandra said. “You were the only ones captured.”

Her heart clenched in reflexive fear. But no. Varric was fine and so was she. He would be safe. He had to be. She pressed against the nausea in her throat and sweat forming on her skin. It wouldn't do for her to lose her head. Not now. 

“I think you were the only ones the templars under the Lord Seeker could reach,” Barris said. 

“This isn't right,” Varric said. “Why capture and then leave us? There's no one even down here.”

Senna nodded her agreement. The whole thing was strange. “What of the Lord Seeker?”

“Vanished,” Barris frowned. “He was gone soon after the explosion. We searched his quarters. Apparently he's been involved in plans to assassinate Empress Celene.”

“You think he's headed to Orlais?” she finished. 

“Maybe. We're not sure of anything at the moment.” The thought was apparently aggravating to him. 

“We'll deal with it later. The immediate threat has passed, at least, and we still have people missing. Finding them is our first priority,” Senna said with force. 

“Of course, Herald.”

She rushed forward to help in the search, stopped, and turned back. “We need to find Bianca too. Get some of your men on it, Barris.”

With a chuckle, Varric began to explain what she meant. Senna stepped out of earshot. 

She barely checked two doors before there was a shout for a healer. She turned, hope lifting her heart, and saw Vivienne and Sera helping Blackwall into the hall. Her relief diminished. 

“You alright, Blackwall?” she asked, noticing he wasn't using his left leg. 

He nodded. “Just the leg. Everyone safe?”

“We're looking for-”

“We found another one!” one of the templars shouted down the hall. Senna moved instantly.

“Get to a healer,” she called to Blackwall. She practically ran to the door the templar was stationed at. Her chest clenched again. They were unlocking the door as she arrived. Solas stepped out. There was a half-healed gash on his head and his clothes were browned with dirt and rubble, but he was safe. They were all safe. Senna breathed. 

He looked her over, perhaps searching for injury, with an expression she didn't recognize and couldn't name. 

“You alright?” she ventured. 

“Yes. What happened?” 

“We're still figuring that one out. Everyone's safe though. I couldn't care less about the rest,” she said. 

He huffed, his eyebrows pulling together. “Were you interrogated? I imagine their goal was in cornering you.”

“No, there was no one. Barris and the others came to help, but our enemy has apparently fled. We're all agreed something's going on.” Senna glanced at his wound. “We should get someone to look at that.”

He grasped her left wrist as she moved to leave. His other hand touched her cheek, thumb smoothing over a smudge of dirt there. “It's of no concern. I'm glad you're safe.”

“And I you,” she responded immediately. She stopped. He had taken her hand and pressed a gentle, slow kiss to the mark on her hand. She blushed, not from the contact, but from his unwavering eyes that showed his desire so clearly. He'd never been so open, much less affectionate, and especially not in front of others. Her flush quickly turned to a shiver. 

“I'm sure you have work to attend,” he admitted, letting her hand drop. She licked her lips, nodded, left.

That was unexpected. Solas had told her it was over. 'A mistake'. So what was that? What did he mean by that show? She knew he could be impulsive at times (though not as often as her), but this was ridiculous. It was a bit unlike him considering all the effort he'd put into keeping them apart. Since their kiss, Senna had almost gotten used to his careful distance. That was not distance, and that was not careful. His forwardness was obviously a topic she wanted to discuss but she didn't have the time. Yet. 

With everyone safe the next order of business was adding the templars to the Inquisition. Senna trusted Barris, and she let him know he was the only templar with that privilege. She was willing to forge an alliance provided he was at the head of the Order. He agreed with the same determination she'd begun to expect from him. 

So Barris would send his trusted veterans to help close the Breach, and the Inquisition would give aide to put the crumpled Templar Order back together. It was as good an arrangement as either of them could get. 

Everything was settled, so they set out for Haven. It was not a terribly long journey but they were all tired. The first day was filled with long silences and short bickering. They camped early, earlier than she would have liked. Spirits were lifted with a good meal and many of her companions turned in for the night before the sun had properly set. 

Senna sat beside Varric as he finished cleaning Bianca. She was trying her hardest _not_ to stare at Solas. He'd been quiet – to be fair they all had – and often lost in thought, but when he caught her glances his eyes would settle into something hungry that reminded her of their kiss in the Fade. His kiss to her hand was a much more recent memory, more real for happening outside the Fade, and her mind conjured the feeling of it several times during their travels. Once, her mark seemed to react to her emotion, a mix of bafflement and pining hope, causing it to spark and flicker with power. Usually that burst of green was a precursor to a rift and she caught the eyes of several nearby. Solas, too, looked at her. His eyebrow arched as if he knew, or at least had a guess, and Senna blushed, shook the rippling power from her hand, and mumbled a half-meant apology. 

So her eyes settled on the dormant mark. If it was reacting to her and her emotions, perhaps she could somehow control it. The only time she had a grasp on the mark's power was when she was closing a rift, when it would burn hot under her palm then snap like a coil of lightening when the rift sealed shut, numbing her arm for minutes, sometimes hours at a time. If she could figure out how to bend that power to her will, she was sure her own magic would grow in response. 

“Does it bother you?”

She looked up at Solas. Senna frowned. She must have been staring for awhile. The concern on his brow was both comforting and familiar. 

“No, just thinking,” she said. He sat beside her. Senna had decided to wait for him to be ready to talk. That seemed to have become a pattern with them. She could already guess the outcome.

The fire was dying now, and Varric wished them goodnight, the last of their companions still awake. She thought he might have winked at her but it was too dark to tell. 

Solas reached for her hand, pressed and examined it with lithe fingers. Senna smiled wryly. “I'm fine, Solas. Stop worrying.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, giving up his analysis without relinquishing his hold on her hand. “The magic is unfamiliar, and we do not yet know its full extent.”

“I think I might be able to control it, if I hone my 'indomitable focus',” she said, mischief on her tongue. Dammit, she was supposed to be upset at him.

He smiled. “If you attempt to do so, don't overexert yourself. It could have a negative affect.”

“Of course.”

It was quiet for a long moment, his thumb lazily caressing the mark. She watched, waiting for him to make the first move. He didn't.

“Alright, fine,” Senna started as she lost her patience. “We need to talk about earlier.” 

“Hm?”

“When you kissed my hand. You need to tell me what's going on because I'm not gonna play this push and pull game with you. Either you want to be with me or you don't. Make your decision and stick with it,” she said, the frustration pushing her words to sound more forceful than she originally intended. 

A frown tugged at his lips. He said nothing for a long time. As the time wore on, Senna's temper cooled. She began to wonder how hard it was for him, and why he felt the need to fall back on his own words.

“I was afraid,” he admitted quietly. Senna licked her lips. He glanced at her, continued. “I woke alone, with no idea of what the Lord Seeker planned, knowing the way he acted at Val Royeaux, knowing he arranged the explosion. But I was afraid for you, not myself, and . . . I can't deny how important you've become to me.”

“Solas.” 

He watched her eyes and his warm hand pressed gentle against her cheek. “I need you. And I was wrong to think otherwise.”

Without another word he rushed forward to take her mouth. His hand moved and gripped the back of her head to angle and press her lips the way he wanted, the way that drew a shuddering gasp from her. Senna floundered, gripped his tunic and pulled as she adjusted to his rough kiss. 

It was much like the first in that his lips moved with passion and need, all teeth and tongue. But it was more forceful as well. As if he couldn't bear letting go of her, as if he'd been waiting for this. Somehow, she found herself enjoying it less than their kiss in the Fade. Senna couldn't be sure why.

Then Solas pressed those skilled lips to her jaw, nipping his way to her ear. 

“We shared another night like this,” his hot mouth ghosted over her sensitive ear. “Do you remember? In the Hinterlands.”

Her breath was returning to her in short pants. Senna chuckled. This was very different, but she conceded that there was a low fire late at night and the others had long since laid down to sleep. “You mean when I got mauled at the end of a crappy day? I do happen to remember that.”

She jolted and sucked in a breath as his tongue touched the tip of her ear. Oh. He hummed, nipped, and she barely realized her grip on his tunic was now so strong her hands were trembling. She wasn't laughing anymore. 

“You came to me nearly bare.” His lips pressed firm on her neck. “Tempting me.”

Her eyes fluttered as she remembered her own desire. Yes, she knew. Funny, she felt the one tempted that night. The heat was pooling low between her legs, and she could imagine what he was hinting towards. She pressed him into another wanton kiss. His taste and fervor were exhilarating. She didn't think she would get enough. He pressed, pushing her down as his lips slanted against hers, his hands moving to prop himself over her as she leaned further back. 

She pulled away, looked to his dark eyes, the whisper of a plea in her throat and - 

A great snore broke the still night. It sounded like Bull, and Senna was reminded that this wasn't the time or place to indulge with Solas. There was another long snore. Senna pressed her forehead to Solas's shoulder with a small sigh. He chuckled. 

“When we return to Haven, then,” he said, fingers trailing up her back. “I promise.”

“I'll hold you to it.” She kissed his jaw. They shared another glance, one more quick, hungry kiss, and he sat back to let her stand. 

With the third snore there was a loud smack, a grumble and a curse, then silence once more. Senna tamped down her laughter and snorted instead. 

She pulled out her bedroll and laid down to sleep. The day had been so long she passed into the Fade almost immediately. Perhaps Solas would be there again this time. 

She was still standing in the place where they camped. It was not much different in the Fade so Senna set out to hunt for more interesting landscape. The forest was quiet, as she was used to, and she wandered with little aim. 

Her peace snapped like a weak arrow. A terrifying sound caught on the wind, one she never honestly expected to hear. Not here, not in the Fade. 

Fear trilled through her knees and caught her breath short. 

The wolf howled a second time.


	8. Dread and Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senna meets the Dread Wolf. Also, NSFW at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Chapter edited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I haven't updated recently. I've been in a 'down' phase with depression which sucks because I've been desperate to write but just . . . couldn't. Sorry, I know that sounds lame :/ This chapter has lots of good stuff so I hope that makes up for it. 
> 
> I'm worried the difference between real Solas and Envy!Solas is too subtle. I tried to accentuate it in their conversation, wherein Envy is silent where Solas would definitely speak, but if you can't see it or tell the difference between them, please, please let me know and I will do my best to fix it. Envy has to be close enough to Solas for no one to notice, but far enough away that the reader can tell and Lavellan can become reasonably suspicious. I want to make sure I'm hitting the balance right. If I'm not I'd really like to know.
> 
> Also I'm still not very good with smut yet. This is only my third ever attempt so I'm still learning. Hopefully it's not too bad lol And thanks to cyran9 on tumblr for her suggestions for that scene. 
> 
> Enjoy~

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent._

She'd heard the phrase all her life, repeated the words like any good Dalish, and suddenly it seemed so trite and unconvincing. They always said not to let him catch you but they never said what to do if he ever did. 

What else could it be but the Great Wolf? The howl of a thousand nightmares promised by the stale wind, a veritable feast of fears clenching her heart until it threatened to break and shrivel to nothing. Senna stopped the rising bile of madness, breaths short and harsh. No, it couldn't be the Dread Wolf. It wasn't possible. 

_But that night you killed the wolf_ , her mind whispered, traitorous, softly coaxing her to the inky darkness of primal despair. Her heart pounded at the thought, the very real possibility that the Dread Wolf had come to consume her for her slight. As her mind tumbled through visions of nightmares the fear itself snapped her focus back in place. 

Fear? Despair? Nightmares? There was a closer answer than tales from her childhood.

“Show yourself, demon,” Senna bellowed to the distance. Of course it would be a demon, calling on an old fear to stagger her. 

But her only answer was chilled silence. 

She stilled, waited. The panic never left her, but she was able to remember herself despite it, despite the heaving breaths and doubt pounding across cold skin. There was no demon. Not yet, anyway. Senna began to hope for one in some twisted need for something, _anything_ other than the Bringer of Nightmares. She could handle a demon. The Dread Wolf though . . . She doubted any dalish in her position could feasibly fight off the wolf and win. A human mage wouldn't even know the danger they faced until it was too late. 

Moments passed like slow water and she began to wonder if she only imagined the weight of the wolf's call. She heard something. That much she wouldn't deny. But the bleak song of nightmares was already hard to remember. Yet her body trembled with no means to stop it. 

Then it appeared. 

It climbed over a ridge her troupe passed over earlier that same day, stopped at the top between tall white birches, and looked right at Senna. Six eyes the color of blood and death, its fur ephemeral black that whispered at the edges and shifted as if made of darkest shadow. A roiling storm came with it, drifting across the green tint of the Fade and smothering even that subdued light. Wisps and small spirits drew in to the beast, dancing in the wake of its power but never close enough to touch the Shadow itself. Even they feared it. Why would they not? The thrumming energy coming from it pressed against her, even from a distance, pushing into and through her to touch on her basest fears with little effort. Images of past pains and regrets bubbled up until she was crying with the weight of despair realized. 

It was the Dread Wolf. It was real and it was here to consume her. 

Senna fell to her knees. Under normal circumstances she would fight, but there was no resisting this. The Wolf did not approach. It watched from its perch as she trembled in tears. Perhaps it was waiting for her prostration. Senna was prepared to push her face into the dirt to appease it. This was beyond fear. This was madness and instinct and survival vying for control of a mind shrunk by something too great and heady for comprehension. 

Instead the Great Wolf sat and lifted its head as the storm slowly blackened the remaining light around them. Its howl shook her and, she imagined, the entire Fade. She did fall to the ground then. Senna thought it would be fear that stilled her but the wolf's song tasted like sorrow and regret. It wasn't trying to draw the emotions out of her but instead pressed her heart until the dread was swallowed up in the creature's despair. And now she cried not for herself but the sad beast in the darkness. The low song was impossible to resist. 

Her chest wailed in response, voice rising to reach it across the Fade. The Wolf fell silent.

Senna woke herself screaming. 

There was a rush of activity as her companions reacted to her fearful howl, but Senna couldn't move. She heard the familiar shuffle of fabric as the tents were shoved open. One ripped in someone's haste. 

“Andraste's ass.”

“The hell's going on?”

“Senna!” Solas was above her, brow crinkled in worry. Soon there were others. 

She was still screeching. There was no way to stop. She had no control anymore, no way to rein her voice or body. Senna watched as an outsider, strangely calm beneath the tremors on her skin. 

“What happened?” Cassandra had to shout over her.

“I don't know. She just-” Solas pressed a soothing hand against her skin. There was panic in his eyes now. 

Reality snapped through her. Her screams stopped. She rolled and immediately retched on the ground next to her bedroll. A hand pet down her back. Senna shook, ashen. Her hands clenched around the fabric beneath her. It was real. That was really the Dread Wolf. 

She sat up so fast she nearly knocked heads with Sera. The hill where it had been standing was empty, the birches swaying lightly in the morning wind. 

“Boss?” Bull finally said. 

Senna shuddered. “The wolf. The wolf was. . . .” she managed hoarsely. They wouldn't know what she was talking about. She wished for Deshanna then. Even if her Keeper didn't know what to do or how to help, she would at least have some sympathy, some wisdom to offer to comfort Senna. Instead she had her confused and questioning companions circled around her. She swallowed the remnants of her Fade dream at the thought. 

“I'm sorry, I . . .” she tried. 

“Should we chalk it up to a bad dream?” Varric offered, though even he didn't believe that. 

“Seems more like a demon,” Vivienne said as her sharp eyes cut over Senna's pale and trembling skin. 

“Yes,” the elf admitted. It was easier to let them think it was a demon. They might not even believe her if she told them she met the deceiver god of her people in the Fade. “A demon attacked me. I was able to fight it off but it was . . . difficult.”

“Are you certain you're well?” Cassandra asked, stiff at the thought of the Herald becoming possessed. 

Senna nodded. “Just a bit shaken up is all. I'll be fine.”

“Augh, demons,” Bull said, lip curling. “Bad enough dealing with that shit this side of the Fade.”

“I know, right?” Sera stood back up. “Least here you can stick 'em.”

“Exactly.”

The two wandered off, the supposed danger passed, as Blackwall brought Senna a drink of water. He seemed unsure how to deal with the situation so Senna offered him a smile and her thanks. The cold drink soothed her raw throat. 

They dispersed one by one as she proved she was in control of herself, though there was no shortage of furtive glances from everyone. Solas stayed beside her, silent, but offering comfort in his touch on her hand. Senna expected him to have something to say about her encounter with a demon but he said nothing, even after the others left. 

“Nothing?” she finally pressed, a playful lilt to her question.

His lip twitched. “Is there anything you'd like me to say?”

“I don't know. You're the Fade expert around here, aren't you?”

“I am,” he chuckled. “But you've had a trying morning. I was trying to be considerate. We could always speak of your experience when you're feeling better.”

She hadn't thought of it that way. But it made her smile. “I see.”

“Unless you'd like me to be less considerate?” he teased. 

“Not at all. I like you as you are,” Senna said honestly. 

He brushed his lips to her knuckles. She watched his eyes and saw that new look again, the one that said he _wanted_ her, the one that led to hot kisses and the promise of something more at Haven. 

The moment passed as quickly as it began. Her hand fell from his as the thought of Haven reminded her of her duty. There was so much work to do now. The breach needed to be closed. And there were still unanswered questions concerning Therinfal. Not to mention the work that came with her absence from Haven. With all that in mind, Senna offered Solas a smile. 

“I'm feeling better now. We should help the others get ready to leave.”

“Of course.” He left her side. 

Before long the group was ready to head out, but not before Senna gave one last look to the hill. It was empty. There was no wolf. 

But the memory lingered, and there was little to distract her from it on the road. The suspicion hanging on the air between her and Cassandra only amplified her own anxiety. Maybe she was possessed. Maybe the Wolf had taken over a part of her and she didn't know it yet.

But no. Eventually even Vivienne and Cassandra let up their scrutiny. They felt she was herself, so she must have been fine. Even if she didn't feel it. She was skittish, jumpy. More than she had been in years. More than she had ever been after passing through the Fade.

That night, when they made camp only half a day's journey from home, Senna didn't sleep. She kept watch alone, looking for the wolf of shadow in the darkness. There was nothing, of course. Still, for the first time she wished for the solid walls of her cabin in Haven. 

Tired as she was, there was work for her to do as soon as they came into town. It was a welcome reprieve from her thoughts. She met with her advisors to settle the many issues in Therinfal's wake. The templars had sent word ahead. They were three days out from Haven and would be ready to help close the breach as soon as they arrived. 

There was still the matter of the Lord Seeker's disappearance. Leliana sent out a few agents to search for him and look into the idea of him escaping to Orlais. For now they could do little else. There were a few other matters to attend, more Chantry dissenters, more people in need of help, more nobles currying favor. It took all afternoon to sort through everything. By the time they were finished it was nightfall. 

Too exhausted to be hungry, Senna went straight to her cabin. She was still wary of sleep but she hoped she was tired enough to skip the Fade altogether. There was also the chance the Dread Wolf had lost her but that seemed a dim hope. She needed to sleep eventually. And there was no telling what would actually happen if she met the wolf again. She remembered it hadn't been eager to kill her. That counted for something, didn't it?

Senna had barely unlaced her light greaves when there was a knock at the door. She slipped the leather off and moved to answer it. She expected Josephine or Cullen with some missed point of interest from their meeting, but it was Solas who stood before her. 

A little smile hung on his lips as he entered her room. 

“Hey,” she greeted, a bit surprised at her own slumping shoulders. She hadn't been looking forward to the extra work anyone else would have brought with them. “Did you need something?”

“I believe we arranged to meet upon our return.” His fingers brushed through her wayward bangs and settled against her jaw. 

Yes, that's right. Senna flushed but her eyes were already drooping with the need for sleep. Still, she stepped closer to let her arms settle loose around his waist. “I know. I'm sorry but I'm really tired. You're welcome to stay if you'd like company but I was intent on sleeping.”

His thumb smoothed her cheek as his other reached to entwine with the hand of her mark, pulling it to rest at their side. “Does the demon still trouble you?”

She closed her eyes, leaned against his touch. “You'd think me a superstitious Dalish girl if I told you.”

“Demons are a real threat, and can be very cunning in their tricks,” he reminded. 

“I . . . It looked like Fen'Harel,” Senna mumbled. “Maybe it wasn't, maybe it was something else, I don't know. But it was powerful and _real_. I've never felt anything like it in the Fade before.”

“Do you think it was somehow attracted to the mark's power?” he suggested. 

“Maybe.” She thought hard on the encounter but there was no evidence for that theory. The wolf hadn't done anything, really. Except scare the life from her. It was still so surreal and she couldn't make up her mind what to think of it all. 

“Well, if you like, I do know a way to take your mind off it,” Solas said, leaning in to her lips. His fingers slid from her jaw, down her neck to brush her collarbone. 

Senna shook her head lightly in amusement. “I'm sure you do. But like I said, I'm tired. I was about to go to bed before you came in.”

His other hand left hers, settling instead on her hip, thumb brushing the skin just under her tunic. “You are insufferable,” he said against her lips. 

Senna snorted. “Says the man who made it his job to try to kill me for a week.”

He laughed low but said nothing. She was expecting a kiss but he pressed his lips to the side of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, down her neck. His hand worked open the top of her tunic. Senna hummed, happy with his warmth and his touch. She pressed her own fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. He was making it difficult to leave. 

For a moment she let him. For a moment she indulged in his chilled hands passing under her now open shirt to press bare skin; enjoyed feeling him warm against her, enjoyed his soft kisses to her neck, pushing the fabric away to reach her shoulder as well. 

She was too relaxed now, her bones too loose. His touch closed her eyes and she felt herself passing into dreams. 

“Really, Solas I- mmph,” her drowsy mumble was silenced by his pressing mouth. He was more insistent now, hot, rough. His fingers dug down her skin, grabbed her ass, pulled, until they were flush and warm. He wasn't listening. She was losing. 

Senna huffed through her nose and gave in. Her lips slanted, tasting his tongue. She shrugged her tunic the rest of the way off and reached for his. He pulled from her lips long enough to throw the garment off, his jawbone necklace clattering against the wood floor. Their bare skin pressed together and her nipples peaked at the touch. 

Both hands gripped her hips, steadied to grind his erection against her. Her mouth fell from his with a groan, panting. She nipped his jaw, hands on his skin, rocking again for more friction. Instead he pushed her away toward the bed. His pants were off by the time she touched the mattress. He helped tug the remainder of her clothing off, lips hard on hers, their bodies fitting together. 

Senna had imagined him a gentle lover. When he kissed her in the Fade there was something delicate to his touch despite, or perhaps because of, his passion. She'd seen Solas willing to take his time with things and she assumed he might be so unhurried in the bedroom as well. She was a bit . . . disappointed. Disappointed that he didn't listen and wait for a better time, disappointed that their coupling, their first time together, was turning so rushed and rough. Maybe she expected too much. It could be he was inexperienced in such things as a wandering apostate. She hadn't asked. 

Still, his thumb reached for her lower lips and pressed her clit. She bit her lip, thoughts silenced. He circled the nub a few times, lips on her heaving breasts, tasting skin. She bucked at his hand, shivering with heat and sweat under the stirrings of pressure at her core. He moved up to her lips again. Her hand curled around his neck to brace herself. Then she felt the press of his tip at her entrance. Instead of entering slowly, he plunged deep in one stroke. Senna tipped her head back with something between a hiss and a moan. This wasn't her first time but it had been awhile and his length stretched her. His hips bucked shallow, looking for friction without a full thrust. It was uncomfortable and hard fulness at once. Senna grasped at the sheets for purchase and tried not to jerk back. She knew from experience that never ended well. Instead she opened her legs to get more comfortable, adjusting her position to accept him easier. He groaned at the shift, giving another soft thrust, his breath hot on her slick neck. It seemed he wasn't all that experienced after all. 

Senna rolled her hips. He responded with a deep thrust that made her hot all over again. They clambered through a few awkward thrusts before finding a rhythm. It was only then that she could begin climbing to her peak. She pressed her right hand between their bodies, rolling two fingers over her clit. 

Somewhere in those moments as she neared the edge, her mark spluttered and sparked, suddenly awake and casting a green glow over sweaty skin. She stopped, gasping at both the exertion and her surprise over the mark's strange activity. 

Solas barely flinched. He leaned back to grab her hand and pressed it against his lips. The hand lit his skin, accentuating the angles of his cheekbones with green shadows. His tongue touched across the 'scar' and her fingers spasmed as a jolt struck up to her elbow. Senna laughed at the strange feeling, somewhere between ticklish and burning. 

But she was close now and the press of their hips turned frantic. Neither cared about the mark. He entwined the hand with his own, pressing it to the bed, tongue and teeth returning to her neck. His other hand dug into her hip, pulling her closer and harder. 

She arched her back. Her hips lifted to a new angle and his next thrust stroked deeper. Senna shuddered, moaned. She was close. Once more and she was clenching, tensing. The second had her bucking unevenly. The third pushed her. She came undone with a low hiss, her walls spasming around her lover. He groaned at the pull and came under shallow thrusts, his teeth pressed to her shoulder. He bit harder with each buck of his hips until they were both still. Senna winced.

“Ow,” she said with a bit of exaggeration. It was enough to bring him to release her. His lips pressed over the new bruise with a forceful, quiet, “Mine.”

Senna shivered, whether from the chill of his voice or the cooling air she wasn't sure. That was . . . strangely possessive of him. Before she could think too deeply into it, he finally looked at her, the familiar frown on his eyebrows. 

“I'm sorry. I hadn't intended to hurt you,” he said. 

She smiled hesitantly and lifted to peck his lips. Whatever that was had apparently passed. “Don't worry about it.”

He pulled from her, their fingers untangling as he curled next to her. The mark was still once more. Senna thought she had been tired before. Now it was all she could do to keep her eyes open, her body heavy with exhaustion. It was as if all the energy had been sucked straight out of her skin.

“Next time, how about I lead?” she offered. 

Solas chuckled and brushed his fingers over her bangs. “As you wish.”

She shook her head but words wouldn't come anymore. She reluctantly fell to sleep as Solas reached for her left hand again.


	9. Nearly Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senna finds herself in the company of the Dread Wolf again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, I just want to say how incredibly happy and thankful I am for the kudos and comments you guys have showered me with. I'm so, so glad people are enjoying this story. I stayed up super late to finish this, so I won't be answering comments right away, but I will definitely get to them tomorrow. 
> 
> Enjoy~

She shouldn't have been surprised to find herself in the Fade. Again. 

Senna was becoming more convinced there was something about the mark that drew her there. She'd never come unbidden into the Fade so often before. When she awoke, she would have to ask Solas for his opinion on the matter. She only wished there was an easy way to invite him into her dream like before. For now there was nothing to be done about it. 

It was springtime in Fade-Haven once more. She assumed it was the influence of the spirit Solas mentioned. The snowless landscape brightened her heart only long enough for her to grasp the oppressive presence of a wholly different spirit. There was no mistaking the Dread Wolf's power. Not after feeling it once already. She couldn't see it yet, but she did notice the dark rolling sky it brought with it. Somehow her aura dimmed along with the light. Though Senna wasn't on the ground crying, she could feel discontentment wiggling into her heart. She got the sense that feeling would intensify if she got any closer to the Beast. 

The Dread Wolf was near, but so far it hadn't tried to seek her out. She would do it the same courtesy. Though she couldn't imagine it being in her Fade dream without trying to do _something_. What that was, she still didn't know. She was willing to not find out. 

Senna sat down, leaning against the wall of her cabin, prepared to wait out the time to her awakening. She stayed idle for some time. Mental preparation for the closing of the Breach and thoughts of returning home flitted through her mind. She wouldn't be able to just up and leave. She knew that. But already she was planning out how long she would be needed within the Inquisition, how much she could reasonably affect the organization in favor of her people with what influence she'd gained, before they inevitably cut her off for having served the shemlen's purposes. It would be a couple of months at most. Then she would be home. Perhaps it would be a little more complicated now that she was involved with Solas, but Senna was confident she could convince him to go with her. He probably wouldn't want to become part of the clan. That was fine. Him being in the Free Marches would be good enough – close enough to be with him with enough space for him to explore freely. She wouldn't deny him his wanderings. It seemed a reasonable arrangement in her mind. 

A glowing wisp danced around the corner to flutter before her. Senna watched the twirling gaseous spirit make energetic motions at her. She stood, curious, and it circled around her, taking time to bounce excitedly at her left hand as if it were distracted by the mark, before settling into a bobbing motion. It was obviously trying to communicate. 

“What do you seek?” Senna asked, already wary. Anything could be a trap, now more than usual with the Wolf nearby. The wisp floated away then stopped to wait for her. She felt compelled to follow. 

The wisp weaved through the darkened houses of Haven with purpose. Its glow cast over every wooden structure and lit her path. The feeling of unease, the ever present thrum of dread was growing, itching at her chest. She knew the wisp was leading her closer to the beast she was trying to avoid. Yet her body wouldn't stop moving. As she reached Haven's gate, as the despair swelled to clench her breath and prick her eyes with tears, a strong wave of contentment pressed her. It was a strange feeling, this duality of opposing emotions. For a long moment Senna was completely overwhelmed with fear and peace pushing hard against one another. When it passed, both settling into a low hum of tension, she was able to look beyond herself across the open space in front of the town. The spirit turned, waited, and she dutifully followed once more. It floated down the path past Harritt's smithy and turned again at a familiar juncture. When she came around the side of the rocky formation there and glimpsed the lake, Senna stopped short. 

The wisp curled through the air to its destination. The Wolf lazing in front of the dock lifted its head, nose held high. The spirit touched against its snout and floated away to join its many companions, the duty now complete. The sight of so many wisps reminded Senna of summer fireflies dancing in the dark. They hovered close to the indifferent Wolf. 

She realized with sudden certainty that she'd been called. Her throat pressed close at the thought. She was still well enough away but those six bloody eyes were trained on her expectantly. Still, the beast lounged with little indication it would move, its tail flicking up every so often. Senna deliberated for a long time. She knew she wouldn't escape the Dread Wolf until it got what it wanted. But she didn't want to give it room or reason to use her. 

As she stood unsure, blood pounding, the wolf seemed to give up pretense and rested its head on its paws, turning its attention from her completely. This was unreal. The Great Betrayer, the Bringer of Nightmares, was sitting in her Fade dream and giving every indication that all it wanted to do was relax. What was its intention? And Senna knew she would never find out unless she asked. 

With trembling fingers clenched to tight fists, she moved closer. It quickly became apparent how enormous the wolf was. She'd only seen it at a distance. Now that she was coming closer she saw its size rivaled that of a dragon (though definitely not a high dragon). That didn't set her at ease. 

Three great eyes blinked open again, the largest about the size of her hand, an ear flicked through the air, and its head tilted but didn't move from its resting place. It was waiting for her move. 

Faced with a powerful god-being with unknown intentions, appeasement seemed the best course of action to her. Tossing aside her pride, her hatred of bending the knee, she did just that. Senna fell to her hands and knees and petitioned him. 

“Fen'Harel, if I have transgressed I ask your for-”

A guttural snarl from the Wolf froze her lips. Her body seized at the sound, laced with the same song of nightmare as her last encounter. In her mind she saw its lip pulled back to show sharp teeth perfect for shredding her small frame. She didn't look up. She wouldn't dare. 

The hum of its throat stopped. It shuffled, the sound of a great mass shifting away from the ground, and she knew the Wolf was standing now. If there were shadows to be had in the dim light, its form would be casting a long one over her. Senna's muscles stuck, cramped and tight. She was going to die. She'd done the wrong thing, said something wrong, and no one ever told her how to talk to a fucking god and now she would die for it. 

A huff of breath from the Wolf's nose shuddered over her skin, momentarily fluffing her hair. It was so close. If this were not a dream her bowels would have emptied by now. As it was, the terror served to blind her eyes. Senna stared into oblivion awaiting death. 

With surprising gentleness for a creature that size, the Dread Wolf pressed its nose to her shoulder, softly pushing her off her hands to sit back on her legs. Even if any thought of resistance hadn't been sucked from her, the touch was so gentle she would have been hesitant to deny the Wolf. 

She blinked, unseeing, as the Wolf tracked her with glowing eyes. She couldn't think of a response to give. The only thought that stood out was that she wasn't dead and wasn't about to be dead. The revelation was both welcome and unbearably confusing. Seemingly satisfied with her position, the Dread Wolf turned away, circled around, and flopped back into its resting place in front of the dock. Its head settled onto its paws again. 

Senna sat stunned for a long, long time. The whole situation came to her in pieces, as if her brain needed to parse the seconds to understand them. So the Dread Wolf didn't want her prostration? And it still hadn't said a word. Perhaps it couldn't speak. Yet in every tale the wolf tricked his prey in part through his words. Then was this not the Dread Wolf? She looked at the creature before her and couldn't imagine it as anything else. Once again, there was only one way to find the answer. Seeing how it had proven more than once now that it was not interested in killing her, she was less afraid to ask. 

“Are you the Dread Wolf?” she said once the tension and fear let go of her tongue. She considered it a small miracle she still had her wits at all. 

The wolf considered her, tilted its head. Finally its nose tipped up sharply in something like a nod. 

“Yet you say nothing. You can speak, can you not?” Senna said. Was she allowed to be so forward?

Another sharp tilt of the head. 

“So you choose not to speak with me?” 

Yes. She would have asked why, but the question would have been pointless. She couldn't think of anything more to say, and the wolf seemed content in the silence. Senna was not. She squirmed in place as time moved. There was nothing she could reasonably do. There was no point trying to leave now. Where would she go anyway? She was still bound to the Fade until her body called her back. Seeing as her . . . companion here wasn't going to accost her, there was little reason to abandon it. She still didn't much like the idea of turning her back to it. And, if she were honest, beneath the dread, the fear of this dark creature, there was a bud of curiosity blooming at the mystery of the whole situation. 

While sorting through her thoughts, Senna became aware of the approaching wisps. Most were content to loop endless circles over the Dread Wolf's head. A few, however, had broken ranks to flit closer to her. It drew the attention of the Wolf, who watched them curl towards her. Senna, too, set her eyes on the small spirits. One particularly brave one moved in towards her. She could feel the gaze of the Wolf following closely. The wisp danced near to her left arm, much like the first one she met. Perhaps they were drawn to the mark, then. She raised her hand with palm up to see what it would do. It twirled excitedly around her arm a few times. A few more, seeing the spirit's success, weaved closer to her skin. From the corner of her eye she saw the Wolf's lip twitch, curling back only long enough to reveal a large fang before settling again. It didn't seem pleased. Senna couldn't tell if it was because of her or the wisps. 

The brave one danced its way around her hand once more and settled into her palm. She felt a touch of warmth that soothed her tenseness, reaching up from her fingers to the top of her shoulder and spreading farther inward. In the same moment the Wolf sat erect with a short bark in the back of its throat, teeth snapping once. There was a flush of pure _power_ that dizzied all of Senna's senses and the wisps immediately scattered up and away. They flew in a confused cluster, twining around each other frantically until they found their way back to hover over the Wolf. 

Senna, meanwhile, was still reeling from the pulse the beast let off. Tears slid fast and hot across her vallaslin as the despair flashed through her heart stronger than ever. The fear she felt at her first meeting with the Wolf had returned despite the nudge of contentment trying to vie for space. Briefly, Senna considered the spirit of the lake was trying to affect her. It didn't matter. She was too far gone to control this anymore. 

She gasped, heart thrashing against her ribs, and looked up at the Wolf. Its head lowered, an expression of something she might have called remorse in its many eyes and along its ears. There was little time to consider it. The strength of her emotion once again cast her out of the Fade. 

Senna woke in her bed, sweating cold and desperate for air. This time she didn't scream.


	10. Nothing Like Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senna approaches Solas for advice, the templars arrive to close the Breach, and the Dread Wolf shows her a vision of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So I know it looks like I haven't updated in a long time (and I haven't) but I've not been completely idle. Between the updates of chapters 9 and 10 I've gone back and improved a lot. Chapters 1 and 2 are completely rewritten, with a lot more content, and chapters 3-8 have been edited, some major, some minor. The relationship between Senna and Solas has changed a bit, with improvements made to each of their scenes together (*wink, wink*) There is also more backstory for Senna and more content for her relationships with the Inner Circle. I highly, highly suggest you go back and read, or at least skim, the previous chapters. I know it might be a pain but hopefully it'll be worth your time. If you like the improvements, or can't tell a difference either way, let me know! 
> 
> As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated, even if it's just to gush about how much you love Solas (in the story or just in general) ^_~

Senna took a long few minutes remembering to breathe. In all honesty, this encounter with the Wolf was not nearly as terrifying as the first. She couldn't believe she was even thinking it, but there was something gentle about the beast. Even though it had shoved her from the Fade with the sheer force of its dark power, Senna could tell it hadn't meant to. That counted for something.

The biggest question that remained was why. Why had it sought her out? What did it want? 

She had no answers. And there was only one person she knew to ask for guidance. 

Thinking of Solas brought to mind the other side of her current problems. She shouldn't have been, but she was thankful he was gone when she awoke. Her core throbbed uncomfortably, and there was an ache in her thighs and along her back. Had it really been so long since she'd had sex?

When she thought about it, the last Arlathvhen was almost six years ago. So yes, it had been a long time. She had always fancied sex would be nicer with a lover – softer, more enjoyable – but it wasn't. So that was just the way it was. It would always feel this way. Senna scratched at the back of her neck, pulling at the darkening bruise on her shoulder and making it burst with pain. With a soft sigh, she hovered her hand over the mark to heal it. 

Of course her mind flit to pregnancy. Solas was a mage so if she did find herself with child, there was a good chance it would turn out a mage. It was not the first time she thought about the possibility while they tried to sort their relationship. Only now it mattered since there was a real chance of it happening. She wondered if the Keepers would be happy or not. They would have their mage but it would be by a non-Dalish. Perhaps it didn't matter. And with her track record of barrenness it was a slim chance anyway. 

But the Breach came first, and before that there was the Wolf. 

Senna cleaned up, careful to be gentle when she came across raw skin. She dressed then headed out to find Solas. 

Haven was fairly quiet in the morning hours. It would be closer to midday before the bustle and loudness reached its peak and carried for the rest of the day. Then, late into the evening, it would slip to silence once more. For now the fresh flurries of snow kept most inside. 

Senna wandered towards Solas's cabin. The walk helped to ease her taut muscles. He was not outside at the low stone wall he frequently haunted. Neither was he inside. Odd. There weren't many other places he would go. 

She went for the tavern next. He would sometimes chat with Varric there in the morning but would leave before it became too loud. Varric was there but her elf was not. 

“Oh, Sunflower. Got something for you.” Varric stood and reached for a small tome to pass into her hands. “ _Tale of the Champion_ , as promised.”

“Thank you, Varric,” Senna said. She flipped through the pages, then held it close to her chest. “Have you seen Solas this morning? I needed to speak with him.”

“I haven't. He alright?” he asked.

Senna frowned. “Of course. I just needed his advice about something Fade related. Why do you ask?”

“Well, he seemed kinda off yesterday. Don't take this the wrong way, but he wasn't even trying to argue with anyone. Usually he'll get off on some tangent about how wrong something is. Nothing. He hasn't spoken a word to me since Therinfal.”

Senna flushed, thinking of the reason why Solas would have retreated from Varric's company. “Ah, maybe he's just distracted. We'll be closing the Breach soon.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Varric shrugged but his eyes were sharp on her face. She had the sneaking suspicion he knew. Senna didn't know why she was trying to hide her relationship with Solas from him, but the thought of him knowing sent her heart in a flutter.

“Thank you for the book. I'll start on it as soon as we get back,” she said. Varric nodded, wished her luck. 

Senna wasn't sure where to go next. She dropped _The Tale of the Champion_ off in her room and wandered out to the gate. It was noisier outside of Haven's walls. There was never a shortage of sound from the barracks, whether from training or the loud conversation of lively soldiers. It was always nice to see the troops in a good mood. Spirits had been steadily lifting the closer they got to closing the Breach. There was now a hum beneath every movement ordered by their commander. 

“Cullen,” she greeted when she saw him outside the barracks. He looked a little paler than usual and she saw fine beads of sweat collected on his brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped back. Then, more evenly he asked, “What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you happened to see Solas this morning. I've been looking for him.” She decided to ignore Cullen's discomfort. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about it.

“Yes. He was heading out toward the old cabin by the lake earlier,” he said. Senna thanked him.

“He seemed to be in a bit of a sour mood,” Cullen continued. “Didn't even say good morning.”

“Really?” She looked off toward the bend in the road that would lead to the cabin. “I'll keep that in mind.”

First Varric, now Cullen. Would everyone know of their relationship simply by seeing how Solas was acting? She had no idea the others took such notice of him in the first place. He'd made friends with some, yes, but never anything that would warrant a close understanding of his habits. Or so she assumed. These people had surprised her before when showing care for her people. That they cared for Solas as well added to that surprise. She shook her head, amused.

In any case, she and Solas hadn't discussed some of the finer points of their relationship yet, so it would be worth bringing up when she found him. She didn't want to let anyone know without his consent. And she imagined he would like to keep a certain level of privacy. 

He was seated atop the rock formation she'd claimed after their kiss in the Fade. It felt so long ago now. A smile fell on her lips. He'd called it a mistake, yet here they were only a few weeks later. How quickly the tide turned. 

When she climbed up to where he sat, Senna realized he hadn't noticed her. His eyes were closed, breath even, in deep meditation. Or asleep. That was a possibility. 

She crouched next to him. “Are you awake?” she murmured. 

Nothing. She reached out, touched his cheek with her fingertips. He snapped. She saw his eyes glow a strange shade of green just before he pinned her to the rock with rough hands. Senna blinked. His eyes were stormy blue, as they should be. It was probably just a reflection of the Breach at the wrong angle, then. She forced herself to relax. Solas let his grip fall away. 

“You startled me,” he said by way of apology. He sat back and returned to his previous position as Senna took up a seat beside him. His hands flexed, then settled on his kneecaps.

“Sorry to bother you but I need your help. You weren't in the Fade, were you?” Senna said.

“No, what did you need?” 

“Then what was that? I've never seen such focused meditation.” Her problems faded to the back of her mind as she prepared for a small lecture on his strange mental techniques. They were always fascinating, if not outlandish, and she loved seeing how happy he was to have her attention when talking about it. 

“I was . . . organizing my mind. It's nothing remarkable.” He seemed exasperated by the question, though she'd never known him to turn away her curiosity.

“Oh.” 

He didn't expound and instead watched her with an expectant frown. Senna shifted. “You know how last night I said Fen'Harel visited me in the Fade? Well, it happened again. And this time I asked. The wolf said it was Fen'Harel.”

“Demons will say anything to get your cooperation,” he interrupted, brushing her concern aside. 

Senna's brow fell. “You haven't seen this thing. It couldn't possibly be a normal demon. Which is part of the reason I believe it. I won't argue this. The wolf is Fen'Harel. What I came to you for was advice. I don't know what to do. It hasn't asked me for anything or tried to coerce me.”

“I imagine it is waiting to gain your trust. Are you not powerful enough to banish it?”

“No.” Senna shuddered. “Remember on the way back from Therinfal? The Beast didn't even come near me but its power was enough to send me from the Fade like that. But do you not know anything else about Fen'Harel? Anything more than what the Dalish already know?”

“Not about Fen'Harel, no,” he said. 

Senna worried her lip. On the one hand, she was feeling a bubble of satisfaction that he didn't claim to know more than her in an area of Dalish lore. On the other, he seemed oblivious to the fact that she'd asked for his help with something related to her people. Surely he should know what that meant to her. They'd had so many arguments about it and the first time she swallowed her pride to ask what he thought he didn't even notice. That, and he wasn't being helpful in general. Though Senna couldn't blame him for that. He was an expert in spirits but perhaps the Dread Wolf was beyond even his knowledge and expertise. She only wished he could give her more to work with.

With a resigned sigh, she stood. “Thanks anyway.”

Solas grasped her hand to keep her from leaving. “Stay. Unless you have work to attend. It's quiet out here.”

She smiled, sat. So that was why he was out here, to be away from the bustle of Haven. That was like the Solas she knew. Senna didn't realize she would feel so relieved to have him acting normally. For as much as she wanted to claim their relationship as the reason Varric noticed something odd about Solas, the dwarf had caught on to a difference in Solas she was only now giving thought to. She couldn't say what it was, had no word for the changed air about him, but there was something. 

In the silence, as she tried to sort what it was that was different, Solas took up her left hand and held it in both of his, resting them on his lap. His thumb traced a gentle path from her wrist to the top of one knuckle and back again. Senna forced herself to relax again – she'd been doing that a lot lately – for her shoulders tensed up when he touched her. 

There was no reason for it. She chastised her own body for defying her. He wasn't different at all, of course. It was her; her subconscious working against her because she finally found someone she wanted on her own, not a man she was obligated to sleep with. The fault was not with Solas but with her. Senna closed her eyes, breathed, and reminded herself she _wanted_ to be with him. 

“I meant to ask you,” she started when she felt in control of herself again. “I think Varric suspects us. Shall we inform the others?”

He looked at her eyes then gave her a sly smile that made her shiver. He gripped her chin between calloused fingers. Without looking away, he said, “I would have you to myself for all eternity.”

Senna tried to smile but it was weak and fleeting. That was a compliment, wasn't it? His thumb touched her bottom lip. He didn't let go. 

“That wasn't really what I was asking,” she said. 

“Let them guess,” he hummed. She really did smile at that before he leaned in for a kiss. Senna shot her hand up between them, her finger pressing his mouth to stop him. 

“One thing first,” she warned. “No more biting. I don't appreciate it.”

He opened his lips against her finger and pulled it into his mouth, holding the appendage between his teeth. His brows raised, challenging her, but she couldn't think to say anything. He sucked once, then let her go. 

“Smart ass,” she grumbled and wiped her now wet finger on her pants. 

Solas leaned in again. Just as their lips touched a horn call sounded from Haven. Senna pulled away and looked back towards the town. 

“The templars must have arrived,” she said. 

“Then it is almost time to close the Breach,” he responded.

“Let's head back.”

They did. Still, Solas stopped her with a hand at her wrist before they reached the barracks.

“This demon,” he said. “Do not trust anything it says or shows to you. It is powerful and no doubt cunning. I'm certain it will retreat when it cannot gain any ground.”

Senna agreed, though she doubted it would be as easy as he made it sound. He left her to her duty when they came into Haven. She was informed that the templars were weary from travel and required rest. They would leave for the ruin of the Temple of Sacred Ashes first thing in the morning. 

There was nothing she could do about it, so Senna spent the day in the war room looking over the menial tasks required of the Inquisition. In the afternoon, she helped pick elfroot for Adan, and that night she stayed late in the tavern with most of her circle, celebrating their upcoming victory. She knew the Breach might kill her. Perhaps the others did as well, for they kept her mind occupied late into the night until she was so full of ale and Wicked Grace she passed out on the table. 

She didn't miss the seething anger on Solas' face from across the tavern. If he was jealous she was spending her time with their friends and not him, he could go fuck a tree. . . . Maybe that was her drink talking.

In any case, she didn't make it to her own bed that night. Despite her addled mind, she did not get to escape the Wolf's company either. 

She sat by the lake with the massive beast because she had no choice. Like before it payed little mind to her. This time, however, the spirits were not allowed close. It would snap at them if they weaved too far in her direction. Senna knew they were attracted to her glowing mark, and one of them touching it had made the wolf angry. Perhaps it didn't want to share the mark's power. Perhaps the mark was the reason it had come to her in the first place: to have that power for itself. When she asked, Fen'Harel shook it's head no, though she wasn't sure she should believe it. 

So Senna sat with her knees curled up on the path in front of the lake, watching what passed for fur on the wolf's back sway to its own breeze. It was entrancing, like a surf made of shadow, whispering back and forth.

“I can't believe you're real,” she mumbled after a long silence. She'd struggled with the thought several times the last few days. The Bringer of Nightmares was real, and that meant the rest of her gods were real. She'd known all her life they were. Still, it was strange to have living proof when she hadn't even asked for it. 

“My people have suffered because of you.” She knew she couldn't get away with accusing it, so she said the words as evenly as possible. It gained the Dread Wolf's attention. The three eyes she could see opened. The front two remained facing forward, but the largest eye closest to its ear trained on her, the pupil dilated to a pin. Senna's heart thumped hard and her stomach dropped through her chest. If only she could know what it was thinking. 

“You locked away our gods. Arlathan fell because there was no one to protect it.” She hardly noticed the pleading edge to her voice. In honesty, she was shocked it let her speak so freely. The eye did not move. “And we had Halamshiral but that too was taken. Now we have no home. Why would you do that to us? So you could laugh in a corner for a thousand years?”

When the wolf stood she knew she'd gone too far. They were questions she always wanted answers to but she should have known better than to challenge the Dread Wolf with them. 

She had earned death this time, surely she had. A transgression was minor but this time she had attacked. But no. As she sat perfectly still, her body shuddering with tension, Fen'Harel approached and bent its head like before. This time its teeth clamped around the back of her coat and lifted her easily. Her feet dangled in the air. She wouldn't be hurt falling from that height, but neither would she be able to get down easily. The next breath from the wolf's nostrils shot warm down her back. She didn't dare question what it intended.

The wolf began to walk. They left Haven and in an instant they were standing in an enormous hall. The arches of the ceiling were so high she almost couldn't see where it connected. Every pillar they walked past was lit with a flaming torch, though when Senna looked closer she realized there was no torch at all. They were balls of fire set against the marble and casting the perfect amount of light. Some of the pillars were crumbling, the broken remains shattered on the floor. Streaks of blood and charred marks she recognized from lightening and fire spells littered the floor and walls. A long rug led from the door they entered to the end of the hall, deep burgundy and lined with gold trim. It had been mangled beyond repair, as had the tapestries on the wall, their heraldry rendered unrecognizable. 

And at the end there knelt a man. There were three low steps up to the dais. Instead of a throne there was a great mirror tinted blue with a humming magic. The man – Senna saw he was an elf by the tips of his ears poking from between matted dark hair – was kneeling before it, head hung low between his shoulders. One hand held the gold engraved frame of the mirror in a bone white grip. The other hung at his side, blood trickling down his fingertips. 

For a moment Senna thought he was laughing. The sound was so odd and choked her ears couldn't place it. Her heart clenched when she discovered he was sobbing. She had never heard a man cry that way. She wanted to go over and investigate but she was still locked between the wolf's teeth. 

All of a sudden she was dropped to the floor. The wolf vanished, as did the kneeling elf. Fen'Harel appeared again where the man was, crouched the way a person would kneel. It turned to face her. A thought came to her that the man was also the wolf. None of it made sense. Her mind reeled under the wolf's expectant bloody eyes. 

“I don't understand,” Senna said. If it was using images to try to deceive her, it certainly chose a strange one to start with. Was this a vision? A memory? 

She woke before she gained any answers. Later, when she thought through the progression of her dream, she had a sense the wolf was trying to show her something of history, something that happened that her people forgot.


	11. Dying For Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Solas's side of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem!
> 
> *builds bunker* *dons helmet* *ducks down for cover*
> 
> Sorry!!!! D:
> 
> Warning for graphic violence.

Solas stumbled back when the demon released him. The templars, skin strangely hot with pulsing lyrium, grabbed his arms to steady and hold him. He looked up at what was the Lord Seeker. It now had his face. 

This was no ordinary demon. He had faced similar creatures both inside and out of the Fade and never had he crumbled so easily under an attack. Had he really fallen so far? The demon knew where to strike to find his weakness, and it had not even required his consent to take his form. It meant the creature was old – powerful enough to take without the crutch of a willing party. Solas would have been far more angry with himself if he were not so dizzy.

“Ah, it's always interesting adjusting to a new voice, a new face.” The demon ran one hand over it's bald head. “Strange choice.”

“Your guise will not last long if you truly intend to approach the Herald,” Solas challenged. 

The demon folded its hands together and swayed to one hip, an action he knew well. “Solas, have you forgotten so easily? I have seen your thoughts and even you do not believe they know you well enough to spot an imposter.” It scrutinized him. “But there is something old in you. Perhaps older than I. I did not have the energy to spare to seek it out and it troubles me.”

Solas did not show his relief. He said nothing, instead giving a subtle pull to test the templar's hold. If he had even a drop of mana left he might have broken free. Currently, that was impossible.

“I would not see you use an old magic against me,” the demon declared. It waved its hand at the red templars. “See that he lives, but only just.”

Solas tensed, steeled himself for what he could no longer prevent. But perhaps he deserved it for failing. 

The gauntlets at his arms clenched tighter. The templar on his left struck first, a sharp blow to his gut that forced his breath up and out. 

Red lyrium made the templars stronger than normal humans. A single punch, covered in metal armor as it was, should not have throbbed so deeply in his chest. Solas gasped in his next breath. 

“Alright, Clem,” one of the templars called behind his shoulder. “First dibs since you won the bet.”

There was a chuckle behind Solas. “Told ya he wouldn't let the knife ear walk.”

Said 'knife ear' glared at the third templar, Clem, a broad, box shaped man more shoulder than anything. Solas straightened as much as he could despite the two holding him. 

“None of that, now,” Clem said, pulled back his fist, and aimed for Solas' face. The elf leaned back half an inch and avoided the blow. The man struck his companion instead. 

“Watch it!”

Clem snarled, the lyrium pulsing in his anger at being outsmarted. “Son of a -” He quickly grabbed the elf's head with both hands and pulled him down into his rising knee. 

Solas felt the crunch as much as he heard it. The blood from his nose was immediate and thick, and a red throbbing bloomed across his face. As he was distracted, the blow he avoided before hit on his cheekbone and whipped his head to the side. 

“Ain't gonna try that again, are ya?” the templar taunted as his fists came down again, aiming for ribs, chest, and face. 

Solas pulled in his mind and instead focused his attention on the loosening grip of his captors. He was weak, yes, but not so much that he couldn't fight. 

He feigned defeat, dropping all his weight and letting the templar's grip support him. One had let his hand fall lax enough that Solas slipped from him and landed on the floor. The elf swiped his foot, tripped the one gripping his other arm, and was free. He jumped up, reached for the stunned templar, snapped his neck, all before something hard smashed into the back of his head. Solas fell to the floor. 

“Come now, I did not ask for much,” the demon said. Clem leaned down and pulled Solas up by his ears. Solas clawed at the templar's hands, his heart clenching at the thought of them tearing his ears off. But his head and chest were throbbing, and blood was still dripping down his face. Despite his show of taking down one of the templars, there was no way he could get out of this. 

The demon twirled the staff that belonged to Solas in his hand. So that was what hit him. The demon twisted it again until the blade at the bottom faced up. It closed in. Solas pressed back. Clem's fingers squeezed his ears and he winced. 

“I thought I was missing something,” the demon said, as if solving some small puzzle. The blade hovered over Solas's necklace. He motioned to the second templar. The man approached, wary now, and pulled the wolf jawbone from around his neck. Clem shifted his grip, his arm coming around Solas's neck as the other hand gripped one arm. 

“You can handle the rest, can't you?” 

Solas felt Clem nod with a 'yes, ser' at the demon's skeptical question. The beast slipped the leather cord around its neck, examined itself, and nodded as if pleased that everything was in place.

“Good. I would do this myself but I should not be late for my appointment.” It grinned wide at Solas. The elf struggled for a moment, found it useless, and watched in silent desperation as the demon left.

“You're not going anywhere this time,” Clem growled at him. His foot stepped down against the back of Solas's calf and a deep snap echoed on the stone walls. He screamed then. Solas hadn't meant to, but he did, vision blackening as he dropped to the floor. He gasped in dust and dirt, tried to regain himself, and failed. 

He didn't remember much after that. They broke the fingers on his left hand, and broke his right wrist while pulling the shoulder from its socket. There was more he couldn't recall. Slurs, taunts he couldn't respond to, and a wet glob of spit on his face. He might have fought back, a desperate last flailing, though it did nothing except burn at his already broken limbs. Then, when they realized he was barely conscious, the two templars threw his body in the warded cage. They had some trouble with the seal – he remembered because they argued about how to put it on right – but he was already beaten. Solas couldn't try to escape. 

They left him in the crypt. The torches still burned but he knew they wouldn't return. He passed out then, his whole body throbbing and shuddering under the abuse it suffered.

The cage was just a little too small for him. He could not stretch out completely and if any part of him passed through the thin bars, sickly green electricity would jolt over his skin. More importantly, that meant he couldn't reach his broken leg. He managed to undo his foot wrappings with his right hand and a bit of creative stretching. His whole arm protested the movement of his broken wrist, but he needed to release his leg before the swelling started. And he could use the wrapping for other things. When the cloth fell away he could see the bone a couple inches below his knee poking at the skin though it didn't break through. It looked like a clean enough break, if only he could reset it. 

In the meantime, he pressed his nose back into place to stop the bleeding then focused on the mangled fingers of his left hand. He shoved them back into place, one by one, stopping each time to breathe and allow the bile in his throat to settle. He tried not to listen to the pop and crack of his own bones. There were no herbs to lessen the pain. He had no mana to cushion the injuries. The cage was also meant to suppress his magic, a thorough final touch on the demon's part. So he clenched his teeth around one of the straps and bore the pain. 

When he was finished Solas spent some time resting his forehead against his knee. He slid in and out of consciousness a few times. The knowledge that he needed to finish this brought him back. If he didn't do everything he could now, it would only hurt more later. With that in mind, he put his waning strength into fixing his wrist. The shoulder was easier, as it didn't require much force. It slid back into place naturally with proper leverage. 

He gently pulled off his sweater, now covered in splatters of blood, deciding to use it as a cushion under his shoulder for when he leaned back against the bars. It was one of the few positions afforded to him. The wrappings, he used to make a sling and to stabilize his wrist and fingers. 

While he worked he tried to think of his best course of action. He could not break out on his own, not in the state he was in. The wards were enough to keep him trapped so he would need an outside force to break the binding. Yet no one knew where he was – he didn't even know where he was besides the fact it was a tomb – and they would not count him missing. He had one means of communication, though he was already doubtful it would work. Still, he couldn't sit idly by and wait for death. There was too much to be done. 

His ability to enter the Fade was where he had some small luck. Were he a normal mage, the nullification wards would have prevented him from reaching out and communicating, another contingency of the demon's, no doubt. But it did not know what he was, couldn't know that he could push into the Fade no matter the barrier. 

So Solas slowed his breath, pushed aside his discomfort and the screaming pain, and tried to sleep. The wolf came to him first. He donned the skin as he came into the Fade. His reason for doing so was twofold: first, the wolf granted him more power as a Dreamer, more power than he would usually need but would be necessary for this endeavor, and second, Senna wouldn't believe him if he came to her as Solas. Though she wasn't raised under the Circle's teaching, she still possessed an ingrained mistrust of spirits. She would see his form and call him a demon, especially with the 'real' Solas in the waking world whispering convenient lies in her ear. The thought burned in his chest. 

But the Wolf was still a gamble. Senna was Dalish, and would mistrust him, perhaps hate him. His hope was that, through patience and slow trust, he could convince her to heed him. He knew he would not be able to speak, either. She would recognize his voice and call it a trick. The odds were stacked high against him, but he had no other option. Well, there was Vivienne, but calling on her would be pointless. She would sooner trust an opponent in the Game than a spirit of the Fade.

So when he felt Senna pass to sleep he pulled on her spirit, drawing her to a Fade dream. He was loathe to manipulate anyone's experience of crossing into the Fade. It was not his place to disturb another's dreams, but this was necessary. 

And she was terrified. He could not know what she saw when she looked at him. Spirits would react to her no matter what he did, and there were many of them to feed on her. They had come to him first, curious and playful little wisps, drawn to his unusual power. Senna could feel it too, though perhaps it manifested differently to her perceptions. He had to stop a few of the wisps as they fluttered and fed on her fear. In their confusion, the barely conscious creatures might have corrupted themselves. Though it was a nuisance to protect them, he would not turn them away. Their curiosity might bloom into something more like free thought. 

His first foray was a failure. He would have to try another approach. Haven was familiar and comforting, in a way, and so he returned there. He also called upon the spirit he met at the lake and asked for its help in soothing Senna's frazzled spirit. It worked, to an extent. She spoke with him that time, still skeptical and cautious. She at once tried to prostrate herself and he hated to see it. It had been many centuries since anyone payed him deference. He also knew her, knew the action did not come lightly. Perhaps that made it worse. 

He won over her suspicion in the moment, though he quickly spoiled the victory with an impulsive reaction. A wisp that had given him trouble before settled on the mark, his mark, and began drawing energy from it. He would not see the spirit corrupted, as it would if allowed too much power too quickly, and reacted. 

But Senna proved resilient, and when he called her back to him again she was not terrified by his presence. Instead she turned to accusation, to questioning the Wolf by what her people knew of him. As much as her words pained him, he took the turn as a good sign. She was beyond fear enough to challenge him. It was a start.

Perhaps he didn't need to show her the memory. It did not pain him as it once did but it was still hard to watch, what little he felt comfortable showing her. She did not understand. There was no malice or accusation of deception, simply confusion. He had hoped for much, hoped that even one of the Dalish would see the truth and know he never once took joy in locking away the others. When she left him, confusion still fresh on her face, he sank with loneliness more potent than he'd felt in some months. 

It was not his goal anyway. He wasn't there to teach her history, but to warn her of the demon that wanted to consume her. It was already taking too long, and he feared he would be too late for either of them before he gained her trust. Already the demon had poked at his mind several times, meaning it needed more information to keep the ruse. Solas had guessed that was the reason it wanted him alive, so it could feed off him from within the magicked cage, and was less than thrilled to be proven correct.

Help came from an unexpected source. Solas had spent most of his time in the Fade while trapped in the cage. It kept his body in a sort of stasis, so the hunger was not as strong and the thirst was kept from killing him. It also meant his wounds healed slower. Every time he awoke it was to the same stabbing pain as when he left it. He tried to stay out of the waking world as much as possible, but it was unavoidable he would return at intervals. He watched the lights of the torches burn down, darken the room in long shadows, and finally snuff out completely. Embers simmered for some time longer but those too eventually died. 

So he sat in total darkness, alone, breathing the dust of the crypt and wondering if he would eat a rat raw should one come close enough, when he appeared. 

The first he heard was a shuffle of soft footsteps. It brought Solas to attention. He could barely sit up straight, and had no way to defend himself if it was a templar come to finish him off, but he would not lie down to die. 

There was no torchlight, no voice, no clink of armor. But he could hear it. A soft swish of sound that marked something bigger than a rat. 

“Who are you?” Solas called into the blackness.

There was a short sound, like a foot scuffing the stone, then, “You can hear me?”

The voice sounded young, probably a man, newly come to adulthood. “Should that surprise you? Why are you here?”

“I'm Cole. I came to help.” He sounded unsure, as if Solas would send him away for offering. If he could judge someone by their voice, Solas was willing to believe the man. 

“. . . How did you find me?”

“I heard you,” he stated. 

“That is not the answer I expected. I have said nothing and called for no one.”

“Thunder thrumming through skin; blistering, breaking bones. Pain reaching across to find the face that frees me. If only I could touch her,” he said, voice turning to a chant as if reciting words he'd heard a thousand times before. 

“Ah.” Solas let a silence linger as he thought, then asked, “Are you a spirit?”

“Maybe. A man called me a demon.”

“If you truly come to give aide, I could not call you a demon. Many are quick to use the word to describe gentler spirits,” Solas said. 

“You have met many spirits,” Cole stated as if he knew it was fact.

“I have.”

Solas listened as Cole moved again. There was the clatter of wood against stone, sliding, then the familiar clack of flints hitting together. A few sparks in the darkness let Solas know his exact position before the torch was lit, bathing half the room in dim light. He stood again, carrying the torch with him, and Solas saw his guess was correct. Cole was a young man in a large hat and dirty leathers, and it was obvious he'd spent some time connected to the Fade. He approached the cage.

Solas leaned forward, ready to be out and able to stretch his limbs again. Cole squatted in front of the door to pull at the seal. All he received was a shock of the same green lightening Solas came into contact with. He tried again, but no matter how hard he tried the seal would not release. He let go, his fingers smoking lightly. 

“It's of no use,” Solas said. He settled back into his spot with a small sigh. “The seal cannot be broken except by the one who created it, or by their death. This demon planned well.”

“So I can't help?” Cole asked, dejected. 

“Not necessarily. See if you can pass me something through the bars.”

He took one of the daggers at his hip and tried to slide it in the space between the bars. It bounced off an invisible barrier, though it didn't shock him. 

“As I thought,” Solas said. He'd thought to ask Cole to bring him food and water if the cage allowed it. Even that was denied him. Perhaps he would die here. 

“I could find her,” Cole suggested after a silence. “She doesn't know where you are but I found you. I could tell her.”

“You think she will believe you?” 

“Yes. She must. Or I can kill the demon and free you.” A resolute frown settled on Cole's brow. 

Solas smiled, the first time in recent memory. “I would appreciate the help, Cole. Thank you. You know where to find her?”

“Yes. The town by the frozen lake. But, it isn't frozen when you remember it,” he said. 

“That's true.” Solas wasn't sure if Cole knew why. Either way, he wouldn't divulge why he enjoyed remembering Haven in the spring. 

The boy left. Solas tried to breathe deep, felt the ache press against his ribs, and stopped. He closed his eyes and tried to find the Fade again. He didn't know if Cole was serious or not, or if he would be successful. He was willing to trust the spirit's intention but little else. He would have to place his hope in Senna's hands. If he could not lead her to find him, he was as good as dead.


	12. Envy the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is closed and Haven gets attacked. NSFW content near the beginning.

It was a small group that climbed the mountainside to the ruined temple. Senna was expecting some large entourage but it was her, Cassandra, Solas, and a handful of veteran templars that took the path. That morning, she'd briefly heard Solas trying to excuse himself from coming up the mountain but Cassandra pointed out that he was the one that came to the Inquisition to offer help closing the Breach. Now was the time they needed him. He agreed and gave no more qualms about coming with them. Still, Senna was beginning to see why he'd wanted to stay in Haven. As they climbed closer to the Breach, Solas began to look paler, his forehead breaking out in a clammy sweat. 

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, walking in pace with his step. He nodded but said nothing. 

The temple was the same as they left it. It felt almost like walking back in time, to the moment she first climbed to the Breach. Though this time she wasn't reeling with fatigue or battle worn. 

Cassandra set up the templars as Senna watched her own hand sizzle with the green light of the Fade. Whatever happened to her, the Breach should be closed. Her clan would be safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Ready?” Solas asked, voice strangely hoarse. She was too distracted to give it much thought. 

“If I die -”

“You won't,” he said with such surety she stumbled. 

“I – hm, if you say so.” Senna could feel the hum of the templar's energy wash over her mana. It was working. The Breach was beginning to feel less expansive. It took some time before Solas bid her to press forward into the edges of the rift. The last she saw of him was his fingers clenching tight around his staff. 

Senna gave the tear what it wanted, lifted her arm high and felt the mark connect with the knot in the Fade. It pulled at her, stronger and harder than ever, drawing from the mark like a spool of thread to stitch the sky closed. Senna clenched her teeth as the pull caught on her fingers, down her arm to her shoulder. She felt she might lift right off the ground and fall into the Fade. Her vision went light, there was a deep thrum that swept everyone to the floor, and it was over. 

She was alive. Her arm was tingling with numbness but she was still in the waking world. Cassandra hugged her, a crushing grip of spontaneous elation, and Senna laughed. Relief was immediate and tangible on all of them. 

And not just them. When they returned to Haven the celebration had already started. There was a great roar of cheers, and a toast as soon as someone could shove an ale in her hand. Senna was swept into a dance just as quickly. No one held back from her. There was not a single stare or sideways glance. What she was no longer mattered. What mattered was what she'd accomplished. Perhaps she could have been upset about how quickly people changed, but she was too busy celebrating with the rest. The Breach was gone, and soon she would be home with her family. It was worth throwing a party for. 

She was still worried for Solas as dusk crept across the now clear sky. So she pulled away from listening to a drunken Adan to seek out her lover. He was back in his cabin, for there was a light burning inside. Senna knocked once and entered.

Solas stood from his seat on the edge of his bed. A smile crept onto his lips. “The triumphant returns.”

“I came to see if you were feeling better,” Senna said. By the look of him, he was. 

“I am, now that the Breach is closed.”

“Ha! I'm just happy it worked. Things are usually never that easy.” She watched him move towards her, closing in. It did not escape her notice that the door was just behind her. Senna gave him a sly smile. 

“Usually not. Sometimes, however, things work out as you plan. It is most gratifying,” Solas said. 

“Are we still talking about the Breach?” she joked. But he was already leaning in. 

His lips caught hers as he stepped forward one more time, pressing her back against the door. His hand came up to slam her left hand to the wood. She might have complained if his tongue wasn't already teasing her mouth. It was a rough kiss, full of demanding need. Senna's head hit the door and she let out a small grunt. He did not relent for a moment, instead pulling on her ass with tight fingers to press their hips together. 

Filled with elation and intoxication, Senna was more than willing to indulge in a bit of victory sex. The Breach was gone. There was nothing to worry for anymore. Everything was as it should be. And now she had Solas. If that was the only thing she gained from this whole venture, she would be perfectly content. 

With that thought, her kiss turned gentle, pressing her lips to his in a soft touch. Solas responded by nibbling her bottom lip, then thrusting his tongue to her mouth again. Senna wrapped her free arm around his shoulders and pulled herself up to wrap her legs low on his hips. Her cunt sat snug against his growing erection and he bucked her against the door in response. 

Solas left her lips, nudged her chin back, and laved hot, open kisses on her neck. Senna rocked down on him as he worked. She tried to pull her hand out from under his but his grip was relentless. 

“Solas,” she panted in warning. Finally, he released her numbing arm to rip at her pants. It took a moment of maneuvering her legs down off his hips before her she had only one pant leg on, hanging loose around her thigh. The other dragged against the floor as Solas shoved his leggings down just enough to free him. 

She was ready for the discomfort this time. It wasn't as pronounced as the first but she was still a little too tight when his tip pressed her entrance. Her head thumped back against the door. With his first thrust, her fingers tightened on his sweater. Senna let her other hand massage the tip of his ear, rewarding him for his strong pace. Each undulation rubbed her clit and pushed her core to clench around him. He hissed his pleasure into her neck. The fingers clenching her thighs tightened, pricks of pain in little crescents on her skin.

Despite her recent use of the mark, it once again spluttered as the heat curled in her abdomen. Senna grunted. 

“Why does it . . . do that?” she asked. Her teeth caught over her lip as Solas interrupted with another harsh thrust she was compelled to return. 

He looked up at her, eyes dark. “Obviously it becomes excited when you do.” As if to prove it, he pulled her ass in at the next roll of his hips. Senna let off a stilted gasp. The mark crackled in response. She jerked her hand away from his ear but Solas quickly brought her back. 

“Leave it,” he purred. “It's mine.”

She wasn't sure about that. Still, she was glad he wasn't concerned by it. On the other hand she wasn't excited at the prospect of the mark going off every time she had sex for the rest of her life. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was the slap of his skin against hers, the empty feeling when he pulled almost all the way out, and the deep fulness when he entered again. 

“Ah~” Senna couldn't tell him to go faster. He was already rocking hard and swift. She was already shuddering, tensing, her cum dripping down his cock at every pull. She cupped his face in her hands, reached for his lips when she knew she was about to find her release. Solas opened for her easily. Her tongue danced over his for only a moment. Then she stilled, moaned, curling her body into his as relief shuddered over her in waves. 

Solas didn't stop. His thrusts turned deep and short. Just as her sated skin was beginning to tense around him again, he came, filling her with a new warmth. 

They leaned on the door, panting, sweat and cum drying in the cold Ferelden air. Senna hummed, nuzzled her face in his neck, and prepared to actually enjoy the afterglow for once. 

They weren't there long, maybe half a minute, before the horn sounded outside above the revelry. 

“This had better be important,” she said to his skin. Solas grunted his agreement. As they pulled from each other and set their clothes back into place – Senna noticed the drops of blood on the crescents in her thighs - the horn sounded again. She'd never heard it go off twice so quickly. It made her scramble for the door and outside into the chill night air. 

The commotion was gathering at the front gate, where she met Cullen and Cassandra. 

“What's going on?” Senna greeted.

Cullen crossed his arms. “Forces approaching. One watch guard reports the bulk is over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked as she, too, made it to the front. Leliana was close behind her.

“None.” His brow clenched.

A blast shook the closed doors. The soldier by the gate shifted nervously and looked to the commander for an order. 

“If someone could open this, I'd appreciate it,” a voice on the other side of the door said. The man was calm enough so Senna reached for the gate door. Cullen was right behind her, sword in hand. 

It was a mage. There were others dead on the ground near him. She wasn't sure why yet, but she knew she was about to find out. The man shook his head, straightened, and looked at her. 

“My name is Dorian Pavus and I bring grave news from Redcliffe,” he said. “An army of rebel mages is right behind me, led by the Venatori and in service of something called the Elder One.”

The name rang a bell. Senna remembered hearing it from the corrupted templars at Therinfal. It seemed that mystery would be solved.

“There.” Dorian pointed behind him, up the snowy ridge where torch lights were marching down towards them. And there, among the approaching mages, was the Elder One. It looked like it had once been a man, the face not quite twisted like a darkspawn, but with its sheer size and the red crystals of lyrium growing in its skin, Senna couldn't believe it was ever human. 

“Cullen.” Senna turned to the commander. He was just as horrified as her, eyes wide and trying not to let his mouth fall open. “Give me a plan. Anything we can do to protect our people.”

“Haven is no fortress. We must control the battlefield if we're to win this. Fortify against the advance guard, man the trebuchets. We could bury them before the reach s if we hit the mountainside,” he rattled off. It was obvious from his tone he'd thought about how to defend against an invasion.

“Good. Gather the templars for the front line. They'll do best against mages. And have some of the soldiers evacuate everyone to the Chantry,” Senna added, not even thinking on the fact that she was now issuing him commands. Cullen did notice, quirked a smile, and agreed. 

“My job is finished, then,” Dorian said, leaning heavily on his staff. “If you don't mind, I think I'll sit down a bit before they come to kill us.” 

Senna nodded. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small little bow. 

The race was on. Senna rushed back through the gate for her staff, and instead found her entourage ready for battle. 

“There's an army marching on Haven,” she explained briefly. “Sera, Blackwall, Solas, Varric: protect the people, get them to the Chantry. Bull, Cassandra, Vivienne, you're with me. We've got some trebuchets to fire.” 

There was no time to run back for her own staff, so she picked up the closes one she could find. It felt strange in her hands, the flow of magic unfamiliar as it cycled through her skin, but she barely noticed it in the commotion. 

It was no great feat to break Haven's walls. Still, Cullen trained his troops well, and the mages had a hard time getting to the gate. The templars also made it difficult for them, though Senna suffered as well under the widespread nullification on the battlefield. She worked around it, utilizing her staff as an actual weapon when she needed to. 

The trebuchets were fired, the avalanche began, and a cry of victory was just beginning to rise when the archdemon appeared, razing fire across the sky.

“How the hell do they have a fucking archdemon?” Senna called. 

“I do not know,” Cassandra replied, moving to join her. The enemy forces had thinned for the time being. “But we cannot stay out in the open like this. Cullen is calling the retreat.”

So that was it? They were doomed regardless? Senna did agree that trying to fight an archdemon seemed worthless but . . . there had to be something. 

The Chantry was packed full of people. The whole town – or what remained of them – had herded into the sanctuary. A screeching roar sounded above. Rock and dust fell from the ceiling under the weight of the dragon as it lit on the building. A baby cried loudly further in. 

“Cullen?” Senna asked, desperation on the edge of her lips. 

“There has been no communication, no bargaining. Only advances. And the archdemon.” The look on his face said enough. Only death remained.

Senna glanced over the room, looking for anything useful. She saw the mage that came to warn them and approached. He was kneeling next to a badly beaten Roderick.

“What happened?” 

Dorian looked up. “He stood up against a Venatori. Brave man.”

“Not very well,” Roderick added.

“Dorian,” Senna said. “Is there nothing else you can tell us about what they're after.”

“No. There was no use talking with them. This Elder One takes what it wants. From what I gathered at Redcliffe, it marched an army all the way here to take your Herald. That would be you, I gather?”

“Yes. But to what end?” Senna wished that title had never come to her in the first place. She glanced at Cullen as he joined their conversation. 

Dorian shook his head. “Aside from taking in the templars, I've no idea what would have incurred his wrath.”

Senna snarled, turned, paced halfway down the hall and came back again. “So there is nothing we can do?”

“There is a path,” Roderick said, finally lifting his head. He explained about a hidden road used for pilgrimage, about how the others that knew of it died at the conclave. Senna looked to Cullen. He agreed it was their best chance, though they would still need someone to hold off the army. The trebuchets were an option, if they brought down the mountain on Haven. 

“Go. I'll see that they don't follow,” Senna said. How had it come to this? That she would willingly give her life for these people, when only a few months ago she was doubting every intention of the humans she was forced to ally with. But now they weren't simply humans. Many of them had become friends, family even. Senna had always been willing to do anything for her family. This was no different. 

Roderick stopped as Dorian helped him stand to leave out the back. “Herald, if you were meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

It was the kindest thing he'd ever said to her. She did not believe in his god, but he did, and it was a gesture she knew didn't come lightly. “Thank you. Mythal enansal ghilani ma.”

Everyone headed out the back, and Senna returned to the front. Some of the soldiers would help her load the trebuchet and keep the mages back, but it would be up to her to bury Haven. 

They somehow managed to get the trebuchet in position. The archdemon had not made an appearance for some time, and Senna kept glancing to the sky for its next strike. So she was prepared when it did. As Cullen's men were retreating it bore down again. Senna jumped up and ran from the trebuchet. If she was its target, it wouldn't care to hit her only hope. She was right. Only, there was a blast from the fire it let down that sent her sprawling. 

Senna grunted, pushed herself up. She'd been sore even before the invasion began, and now every muscle screamed against her. It was all thrown to the back of her mind when she stood and saw that _thing_ , the Elder One, approaching. Senna backed away, trying to decide if she should flee, when the archdemon came thundering in behind her. Its rancid breath shuddered over her as it opened its teeth to consume. 

“Enough,” the Elder One commanded. He began to talk – he called himself Corypheus – and the only thought that came to her was of the Wolf. This Corypheus was giant, three times her size at least, and terrifying, but Senna felt strangely calm in his presence. He could never compare to what she'd seen and felt in the Fade and that gave her some comfort. Though perhaps he meant her more ill will than Fen'Harel. He had come for her, after all. 

“I have come for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” He produced a strange orb seething with its own power. For a moment Senna thought it looked vaguely familiar. Then he stretched out his arm, alight with magic, and her mark spluttered to life. 

But it wasn't like before. The usual pull against her skin when she closed a rift was magnified tenfold. It was not a tug. It was a yank trying to rip all the bones in her arm out through the tips of her fingers. At least that was how it felt. Senna cried, collapsed, and tried to remember she should resist. 

Corypheus was talking again, saying how she ruined his plan, how she brought this on herself, how she shouldn't have survived. The last one she knew. 

The pain was unbearable now. Her eyes fluttered as she bordered unconsciousness. All at once, it stopped. Corypheus approached and picked her up by her wrist. Senna was left dangling in the air by her aching arm. At least she was able to lift herself up to keep him from pulling her shoulder out of its socket. 

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your fumbling.” And he threw her like a rag doll straight into the side of the trebuchet. 

It all happened so fast. She reached for a sword nearby, not that she really knew how to use it. It was better than nothing as Corypheus and the archdemon approached. She must die, he said. And behind him there was the signal. The others were out of range. She was right next to the crank. There was one thing to do, then. Senna feigned an attacking stance, shifted, hit the release on the trebuchet, and ran like hell. 

She could hear the archdemon roar behind her, the rumble of the avalanche close behind. As she hoped, they were too focused on the approaching snow to bother with her. The dragon took off, probably with Corypheus, and Senna was left to die. She was hoping to find some kind of shelter first. 

She tripped as wooden planks gave way easily beneath her and fell into a hole. She had just enough sense to cast a barrier to break her fall. It was still a hard impact and the breath knocked straight out of her lungs. She would be bruised terribly, both from the fall and from Corypheus throwing her into the trebuchet. If she lived. 

Senna wasn't dressed for this bitter, icy cold. In the cave it was bearable. Once she found the entrance and stepped into the strong night wind, she began to really be concerned about freezing to death. Her mana was her saving grace. She could use it sparingly to warm herself and keep the blizzard at bay. No doubt the weather was a result of the avalanche she caused. 

Her plan didn't work as well as she thought. The wind was hard and bit at every inch of skin. She stopped feeling her feet under the thick snow and the numbness was creeping up her legs. Not that it mattered. The rest of her was almost numb from the wind. At some point she forgot why she was walking, where she was headed. She set out in the direction she had out of assumption more than anything. The others had gone this same direction. She could only hope she would meet with them at some point. She would have died if she stayed in that cave, and now she would die if she stayed alone in the snow.

She wanted to stop. Every fiber of her being wanted rest. But stopping meant death. She would keep walking or she would freeze. One foot. Another. Sink up to her knees in snow, pull herself out, and do it again. 

Her legs gave out, too weary from all she'd done that day. The heavy snow was a comfort now, soft and inviting. Senna couldn't even feel the coldness of it. She was completely numb on the surface of her skin. Inside, her muscles were protesting and her bones were creaking with the cold. The mark, the anchor, was still active, crackling with cool green even as she lay face down in the snow. 

The Wolf came to her. She was looking at the snow beside her head, trying to remember who she was and why she needed to rise. But she remembered her wolf. The soft shadows and blood eyes were familiar. Senna couldn't move. Her eyes tracked the curve of its snout, saw every fang in its great maw as it opened its mouth wide. Was this the moment it had been waiting for? When she was too weak to resist? 

The Dread Wolf breathed. Her face warmed under its breath, the feeling spreading down through her limbs until she was no longer completely numb. It was enough for her to rise to her feet. When she did, the wolf was gone. Perhaps it had never been there in the first place. 

Her mind was blank as she walked. There was nothing in front of her but snow. It was only when someone took hold of her that she remembered there was anything else. It was only when she was placed by a fire that she remembered the feeling of her skin. 

The weariness pulled at her eyes. Whispers sounded nearby. 

'How had she lived?' 

'Surely this proved the Herald was blessed.' 

Senna was beginning to agree. Not Andraste, perhaps, but another god had saved her.

Soon after she was taken into camp, Solas came to her side. She saw his relief through hazy vision and smiled.

“Fen'Harel guided me. I never thought I'd say that but it's true,” she mumbled. He would like to hear it, wouldn't he? 

His frown was immediate and deep. “Surely you imagined it in your delirium. You know you cannot trust that wolf.”

“No, it was real. It was real.” She was slipping out of reality. Perhaps she would return to the Fade again. Perhaps this time she would trust it. Senna found that she wanted to. Whatever it might bring.


	13. Envy Under Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I foreshadowed in the first chapter finally happens in this one. I hope it's not hard to notice >.>
> 
> In other news, I keep forgetting to post some important stuff here so here we go! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr under this same name so if haven't already checked me out over there, please do so :D I have commissioned quite a bit of fanart for this story (and one realllllyyyy big one that's coming up soon omg I'm so excited it's gonna look amazing!!) 
> 
> All the fanart for this story can be found at http://pridetothefall.tumblr.com/sennalavellaninfo  
> Please check it out ^^ I think you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time. Enjoy the new chapter~

Senna did not dream. She felt as if she hadn't even slept. Except now that she was thawed, cold numbness had been replaced with the throbbing ache of a body overused. She grunted, shifted, and found that she was seated in Solas' embrace. Her chilled left hand was wrapped in his. 

“I would like a hot bath,” she announced in a drowsy mumble. Then it dawned on her. There would be no bath because there was no Haven. She finally looked up at the campsite to see the hastily thrown together tents and people huddled around fires, arguing in voices both quiet and loud. They had survived, yes, but now they were without shelter or a food supply. 

“I need to . . .” Senna scrambled for purchase to lift herself out of Solas' lap, but his grip turned tight. 

“I will not let you leave me again so easily,” he said. 

“I appreciate the concern.” She swatted him away and earned an angry scowl. “But I need to find . . . I don't know. I can't just leave these people stranded in the snow. I need – Cassandra maybe?”

She stumbled away from Solas, hardly noticing his fuming except for the feel of his eyes on her back. Cassandra was easy to find as her voice was among those arguing over what they should do next. 

“You're awake.” The Seeker looked her over in a mix of awe and scrutiny. 

“How are you feeling?” Cullen asked, voice turned soft. 

“I'm alive. What's our plan?”

They all looked at each other, daring another to answer first. 

“We have none,” Leliana finally said. “Haven is gone, as well as any influence we might have gained.”

“We have no allies willing to take us in and nowhere else to go,” Josephine added.

“There must be something. After everything I did to close the Breach and get us out of Haven, I'm not going to let these people freeze to death in the middle of the Frostbacks,” Senna scowled. She shifted, considered sitting down, then thought better of it. If she sat, she would definitely fall to sleep.

The others answered her with silence and shifted glances. Senna pressed her palms against her eyes and resisted the urge to scream. One hopeless situation diverted only to fall into another. She just couldn't win. Would she ever get home?

It was Mother Giselle that broke the silence. Senna had met the woman several times, though they didn't know each other well, and knew she was a faithful follower. She proved it once more, coaxing those around her into a hymn the humans seemed to know well, leaving Senna in awkward silence. The elf watched hope shining in people's eyes as they gathered to the song. Some knelt in front of her, a reverence in their countenance that made her stomach roil. Instinctively, she shuffled back, twitched to raise them up, but there were too many now. They would not have let her stop them anyway, not if it ruined the small hope their perceived deference gave them. Senna was thankful, at least, that none of those closest to her showed the same devotion. 

The song couldn't be over soon enough. When it ended people continued to mill about, less tense and more cheerful than they were before. A few continued to stare at her, no longer with fear, but with awe. A woman asked her to bless her child. 

“I could bless your child in Mythal's name,” Senna answered slowly, a tremor of shakes beginning to take her skin once more. “But that is not what you want. You want Andraste. That, I cannot give you.”

Senna watched the disappointment, the disillusionment, pass over the woman's face before Cassandra shooed her away. Better to be let down than led astray with false hope. 

“They are amazed you are alive. No one thought it possible,” Cassandra explained when they were alone. “You are blessed, whether you choose to believe it or not. They believe. As do I.”

“I didn't say I don't believe,” Senna responded lowly, still trembling with fatigue. “I was saved, but not by your god. But it doesn't matter. People will decide the truth they want no matter what I say.”

Cassandra sighed. “You are right, to an extent. I will not argue faith with you. Not now, at least. We would all like to know how you survived. I suspect it can wait until you've had more rest. There is time still before we must move. Use it well.”

Senna nodded, but before she could leave to find somewhere to lay down, Cassandra's smile turned sly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “You know, Solas almost left us.”

“What?”

“After we escaped and began to set up camp. Everyone thought you dead. He kept pacing the outskirts, further and further until we thought he might disappear into the snow. He came back when word spread of your return. He did not let go of you till you woke. Funny, I did not take him to be the possessive type,” the Seeker explained as if it was some juicy bit of gossip. 

Senna flushed, struggled to find something to say, then nodded. “I didn't either. Until we got together. It was only very recently.”

“Really?”

“Yes, just after Therinfal. But with everything going on we haven't spent much time together.” Senna's heart clenched. Despite being so intimate with Solas in the last week or so, she began to miss him, miss their talks and the lightheartedness of previous meetings. Where had that gone? When things were settled and they had somewhere to rest, she hoped to restore some of what she felt they'd lost.

“I hope you have the chance soon,” Cassandra said. 

Senna thanked her and left to fall into the first cot she found. It was not too far, and she wasn't even bothered that it wasn't near the fire. Nothing mattered when she slept. 

She was on the mountain pass in her dream. Everything was bright. The sun reflected off the snow in dazzling clarity. And there, among the light and snow, was the shadowed wolf. Senna noticed the world was no longer darkened by its presence in her dream. She didn't know why, but she was thankful for the change. 

She approached on her own volition. And though everything was bright, the fear and trembling thundered through her heart. That, at least, hadn't changed. 

One of the wisps she had become so familiar with reached her before she met the wolf. It twirled around her making little humming noises and she wondered if it was the same curious spirit that touched the mark. 

“What's this?” its small voice echoed. Senna stared at hearing it produce sound. 

“What's this?” It curled around her coat. “What's this?” It hovered by her boots. 

“They are my clothes,” Senna felt compelled to explain. “I would be cold without them.” 

“Why?”

“Because I'm in the snow.” She felt as if she were speaking to a young child, always with too many questions. 

“What's this?” It bobbed close to her mark. This time it didn't try to touch it. 

“My hand,” she said. 

“What's this?” the little spirit repeated, unsatisfied. 

“I don't know. Powerful magic.”

The spirit hovered, then whirled away towards the waiting wolf. It had been watching her, she knew. At least two of its large red eyes never blinked. 

Senna followed and approached. 

“Why?” The little spirit twirled around the wolf's ears. The appendage jerked in response and she could see the wolf resist the twitch of its fangs. The spirit repeated the question a few times before Fen'Harel swatted at it with a large paw. It stopped and flitted away to find something else to appease its curiosity.

Senna was left with the wolf and its silent companions. She licked her lips. 

“You saved my life.”

It bowed its head. 

“There must be a reason. You would not save someone without cost. If you expect me to say I am indebted to you, I will not. I did not ask for you to rescue me,” she said. Solas had been right. She was delirious when she said the Dread Wolf guided her. It was a foolish thing, giving the Wolf too much credit. Of course it saved her. It had been doing all this work to gain her trust, to get her to show the weakness it needed. She couldn't fall for its trick now.

The wolf grunted, a deep, hoarse sound. It looked as if it had been disappointed. 

“Why should I ever trust anything from you?” Senna hissed back. 

She saw its ears droop slightly, its front legs curl in for just a moment. Then it came back to its full height and approached. The wolf circled around her tense form, casting long shadows across the snow with every step. It stopped at her right side and waited. Senna drew a shuddering breath. The dreadful power it held was stronger now that it was near. 

It lifted one paw. When she did nothing the wolf curled back and nudged her forward with its great muzzle at her spine. It took two steps and waited for her. Senna supposed it wanted her to follow it, to show her something. She remembered the last scene it showed her. She still wasn't sure what it was a memory of – it had to be a memory, though she wasn't sure why she came to that conclusion. 

“What do you want? I'm not going anywhere with you.”

The wolf's lip twitched in annoyance, baring a large fang. The same paw as before reached out and carved into the snow. It spelled out the word 'trust'. 

“I didn't know wolves were literate,” Senna said before she could stop herself. Fen'Harel barked, the sound something like a laugh. Senna found herself smiling. She forced her lips down as soon as she noticed. 

The wolf nudged her forward again. Then another time when she folded her arms and made a show about not budging. Then a third, always gentle yet insistent. She realized it would never stop badgering her until she agreed to follow. Why it didn't just force her where it wanted to go, she didn't know. 

“Fine, fine, leave me alone,” she said, swatting at its nose. She wasn't sure how it became so easy to be friendly with the beast. “Lead. But I agree to nothing.”

The wolf bowed its head in another nod. It turned and began to walk slow enough for her to keep up. They first came to the camp. Then they headed northeast along an invisible path. Up through a mountain pass, down into a valley with a frozen river, then up again, climbing higher, turning east, until she saw it in the distance. 

The great fortress was high up on the mountainside, nestled into its own peak. A long bridge connected it across a deep ravine. Even from a distance it looked sturdy and capable of protecting whoever resided within. 

As she admired the castle the wolf nudged at her back once more, urging her towards the structure.

“Is this . . . real?” she asked. Fen'Harel nodded. Was it really leading her towards shelter now that the Inquisition had none? “But why?”

One paw sunk into the snow again to curl letters into being. Trust.

“Because you want me to trust you? Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that this place isn't filled with booby traps and bandits. If I don't die and this place really is what you're showing me, then yes, I _might_ trust you,” Senna agreed. 

The Dread Wolf seemed satisfied with that. It began to walk down the slope towards the fortress. It was in that moment Senna found herself shaken awake. 

“It's morning,” Solas told her as she blinked back into waking. She was still terribly sore, but the healers must have worked on her because she felt no open wounds. “I thought you should eat.”

It was true she hadn't eaten since the celebration of the Breach closing. Her stomach had turned into an empty cavern. She took the jerky and cold bread he offered with grateful fingers. 

“Were you troubled by the wolf?” he asked. 

“No,” Senna lied. “I did not dream.” 

Lying had come easily but as she ate and considered his words and attitude, questions began bubbling in her mind. She shouldn't feel it necessary to deceive him. But if the wolf was honest about the fortress she doubted anyone would believe her, even Solas. He was open minded about spirits, to be sure, but he'd been particularly intransigent when it came to this one. 

“You don't think it's a friendly spirit?” she broached when she was finished eating. 

“Not this, no. If you have forgotten, you did wake screaming the first time it invaded your dream. No spirit would cause that kind of distress,” he said. 

“Yes, but . . .” But she had no argument. She couldn't explain how things had changed. She couldn't explain the nudge of her intuition. “You're right, of course.”

He nodded, satisfied. Her breakfast finished, Senna cleaned her face with a rag dipped in freezing water. She was now fully awake and ready to seek out Cassandra. 

She was gathered with Cullen, Leliana, and Dorian. Senna was happy to see the mage made it out of Haven. She would have hated for him to die trying to warn them. 

“And what would he spy on, hm?” Leliana was saying. “We have nothing of value to take.”

“I am pleased you think so lowly of me,” Dorian said, arms crossed and looking tense. 

“I know nothing of you personally, but it is odd for a magister to offer help just before a siege,” Cullen responded.

“Southerners! For the last time, I am not a magister simply because I am a mage,” the mustached man shot back. 

“What's going on?” Senna interjected. All eyes turned to her. 

Leliana shifted her glance to Dorian. “We were discussing Mr. Pavus' offer to remain with the Inquisition. He seems to want to help.” 

“And? Let him,” Senna said. 

“It is not that simple,” Cassandra said with disgruntled sigh. 

“Sure it is. Leliana's right. He couldn't possibly be a threat when we've already hit rock bottom.”

“You have no qualms that I am a mage from Tevinter?” Dorian said. 

“So what? I'm a Dalish elf. Unless you try to chain me and cart me off to Tevinter I don't care. The Inquisition had no problem making me a figurehead.” Senna shot a look to Cassandra. The Seeker spluttered. 

Dorian flushed and had an equally hard time catching his words. “No, I wouldn't attempt anything of the sort. I am here to chase down Venatori, and your organization is the only one that might do anything about them.”

“Your elevation was a completely different matter,” Cassandra interjected. “We cannot stop people from praising you if they wish, and your input was necessary due to the mark.”

“Listen, it doesn't matter! Let him stay. Kill him later if he tries to undermine anything. Right now we should be worried about finding permanent shelter for our people,” Senna said.

“You're right, of course,” Cullen admitted, though he still sent a harsh glance at Dorian. 

“Welcome aboard,” Leliana said with a quirked brow. 

Dorian gave a small bow. “Now that's settled, I'll see if I can assist any of the injured. Good day.”

Once he was out of earshot Senna turned back to the others. “I know a place.”

“You do?” Cassandra said. Her displeasure melted at the possibility.

“Yes, an abandoned fortress. To the east. I'm not sure how far.”

“You didn't mention it before,” Cullen said. 

“I'd forgotten about it. A friend told me about it and I only now remembered,” Senna explained. 

“We shall prepare at once. It won't do to remain unprotected in the elements longer than need be,” he said. 

The people were gathered and loaded up all their remaining belongings once more. Senna took the head of the exodus, heart thrumming with doubt. She didn't even know if the fortress was real. It might have only been a figment of the Fade. But they had no where else to go and no other hope. Against all rationale, she would trust the Dread Wolf. Senna only hoped it wouldn't betray her in the end. 

It took two days. On the way she took time to explain her survival to her Circle. Varric, especially, was distraught to hear about Corypheus. He told her about his and Hawke's run in with the darkspawn. It didn't make anyone feel better about the situation. 

That wasn't Senna's problem though. She'd already decided she fulfilled her duty. The Inquisition or the Grey Wardens could deal with the darkspawn magister. She was going home. Just as soon as the people in her care were brought to safety. She was responsible for that much.

“This was abandoned?” Blackwall said when they first glimpsed the structure from the same ridge Senna saw it from in the Fade. She nearly collapsed with relief. It was real. The wolf hadn't lied to her. She wasn't prepared to think about the full ramifications of that yet. It was enough that they had a place now.

And it was not booby trapped or filled with bandits. The whole thing was falling apart but it was sturdy enough to work with. Senna couldn't be more elated. 

As people began unloading packs in the main courtyard, she took the opportunity to explore their new fortress. Solas came with her – he'd hardly let her left hand out of his grasp since she survived the blizzard. It was a sweet gesture, though there were times his grip tightened and she had to fight the urge to pull away. 

For the moment she was too relieved about everything else to complain. And he was being gentle now, their fingers loosely locked together. 

There were a few people in the main hall but the further they explored the more alone they became. It was when they came into the third set of broken down rooms – though this one wasn't too bad, mostly dust and a few fallen beams – that Senna ended the comfortable silence.

“I feel I owe you an apology,” she said. 

“Hm?” Solas tugged at her left arm, bringing it within reach to kiss the back of her hand. 

“With everything going on, I know we haven't spent much time together. You said you wanted a relationship, as do I, but I feel I pushed you to the wayside. Now that the Breach is closed and the Inquisition's safe I hope we can change that,” Senna explained.

“Does this mean I will finally have you to myself?” he asked with a small grin. 

“I don't know what the others will need of me before I head home, but yes. It does.”

“Good.” He tilted her chin up with his free hand and leant to take her lips. She'd gotten so used to his rough, needy presses Senna was caught off guard by the slow sensuality of this kiss. He took his time, tasting her lips with gentle touches until Senna breathed, melted. Her hands wrapped loose around his waist as she pulled closer. Only then did his tongue seek hers. 

“You could make it up to me,” he suggested upon pulling a breath away. 

“Oh?” Her brow quirked. 

His fingers danced up her sides as he hummed. “Something I've wanted for some time. Something only you can provide.”

“I can't make any promises,” she joked. But she was interested now. And she wasn't adverse to a gift after practically ignoring him the last few days while blinded by her concerns over the Dread Wolf. 

He kissed her again, moving across her cheek, pressing chaste lips against her jaw. His breath touched her ear. “I would see you on your knees, tasting me, letting me release in your mouth.”

Senna's blush was immediate and dark. “I- I mean, I've never done – done anything like that before.”

He kissed her again briefly, then pulled back to watch. “All the better.”

“You think so?” Her fingers bunched the fabric of his sweater. 

“To be the first? Of course.” His eyes had turned dark. Senna glanced away. 

She knew Solas was waiting for a real answer. But her mind whirled and she was having a hard time thinking. His fingers caressed circles across her back. 

They were lovers, weren't they? And lovers did this sort of thing for each other. She wasn't completely ignorant of that. All her sexual encounters had been to induce pregnancy but people that truly loved each other did many different things in the bedroom. Or outside of it, as they were now. Still her throat clenched and thudded with a heartbeat at the thought. 

“Solas, I am happy to bring you pleasure. I just . . would be more comfortable if we waited. Perhaps another time,” she said. 

“It will always be difficult the first time,” he responded, still running his hands along her back and sides. “Nervousness is understandable.”

“I don't want to disappoint,” Senna said with a quirked smile, the blush back in full force. 

“Impossible.”

She smiled fully at that. Senna moved to step away. Solas tensed and pulled her flush against him. 

“Please,” he breathed. 

“Oh.” She felt him. He was already there, already hard. The thought thrummed through her abdomen. “I didn't realize . . .”

He kissed her, harsh again and filled with wanton desire. He needed her. It thrilled across her skin when she noticed the truth. How could she deny him now? She would have agreed to it eventually anyway. What difference did it make that it was now rather than later?

Senna nudged at his chest, pushed him back against the stone wall of the empty room. When they parted for him to remove his sweater Solas gave her a half smile that sent a jolt through her stomach. Whether it made her aroused or uncomfortable, she couldn't tell. 

Because she was feeling warmer, a slick heat pulsing between her legs. More so when she dropped to her knees and hooked her fingers into Solas' pants. They easily fell from around his hips and Senna was given full sight of his member. 

She swallowed once then leaned in to give an exploratory lick across the engorged head of his cock. She was rewarded with a pleased sigh. So she ran her tongue across the whole length. It tasted different than normal skin, perhaps a little more bitter. Senna found herself concentrating on analyzing the taste, the feel of it as a vein pulsed hot beneath her mouth. She took another breath, air filled with his musk, and pulled him between her lips. 

She was a bit surprised she couldn't fit all of him in her mouth on the first go. But her throat protested the fullness and she stopped short. Solas didn't seem to mind. His hand wrapped through short locks of red hair, his thumb caressing just under the tip of her ear. Senna moaned, the sensitive touch shuddering through her. He hissed at the small vibration and bucked his hips. The movement brought him to press his head into the back of her throat. Senna immediately gagged, pushed him back against the wall, and pulled away to cough, eyes watering. She learned her lesson with that one. 

She took a few seconds to breathe as he continued to massage her ear. Senna looked up to find he had been watching her the whole time, eyes resting contentedly at half mast. 

“You cannot know how satisfying it is to see you like this,” he said, voice low with desire. 

“I think I might have an idea,” she quipped back. With the way he tried to shove his erection down her throat she could at least tell he was pleased. His hand urged her forward once more. 

She took more in the second time. And now she knew to hold his hips to the wall. For on the third time, when she was becoming more confident even as her throat grew sore, he thrust against her lips again. This time she didn't need to stop. She began to find a pattern, pulling down then engulfing the whole of his cock again, sucking at him when she needed to swallow the spit and salty precum. Breathing in his heat and musk was becoming difficult, so she pulled off completely. Senna gently nipped the side of his length instead.

“Does it hurt if I bite?” she asked. 

“No. Just don't stop.”

So she didn't. When she was comfortable again she took him back into her mouth, resuming her pattern.

He didn't warn her when he came. Only that his hand at her head pushed her down further as he groaned. He tensed, bucking in small circles, eyes still fixed on her. Hot salt rushed across her tongue. Senna swallowed half of it on instinct while some dribbled past her lips. It didn't bother her to swallow it – she'd heard it was harmless to the stomach – but for the taste and the soreness in her throat. She coughed again, weakly this time, and wiped what remained of his seed on the arm of her coat. Solas was spent, at least. 

She would not want to do that again soon. 

She rose. Her knees hurt, her throat and jaw were screaming, and the arousal at her own core was dripping against her smalls. Senna leaned in to her lover and settled a tender kiss on his lips. 

For a moment she thought of telling him she loved him. She had never been willing to do for anyone what she did for him. He was her first love in a lot of ways. But the words caught and she smiled instead.

“Better than I anticipated,” Solas said. He reset his pants and pulled his sweater back on over his undershirt. 

“Good.” Her mouth protested against speech but she was truly pleased. “I should like some water, if you will join me.”

He took her left hand in his and they walked back into the bustle of the fortress. 

There was not much for her to do now. The Inquisition should be able to deal with the rest without her. In a few days time, Senna would begin preparations to return home. There was only one other matter she felt compelled to attend to, and before she went to sleep in her tent in the courtyard that night, she drafted a letter to nearby Clan Varmel, asking their aide in a small matter. 

So with her duty done and her lover wrapped around her in sleep, Senna was ready to meet with the Dread Wolf once more. Even the beast would be hard pressed to ruin her contentment now.


	14. Seeing Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is abysmally short. But I hope the content makes up for it? And the next chapter will definitely have more length...

The Wolf never appeared to her the same way twice. It was something Senna noticed but never fully appreciated until now. For a time she thought it a trick, another way to deceive her into trusting it. Now that she stood in the courtyard, the tents and people replaced by the Wolf's large form lazing near the stone steps, she began to think differently. 

The first time it was a monster. The first time she'd been blinded by terror and the surety of her death. Then when her mind cleared and she could approach it with herself intact, she saw it as less overwhelmingly malicious and more deceptive, more like what she knew of the Dread Wolf. And each time she entered the Fade to greet it, the creature felt less deadly. Only now did she question why it would show itself as a nightmarish creature if it intended to trick her. That made no sense. Surely if it wanted her trust it would make itself appear more pleasing. 

Senna approached. That was another thing. It never came to her, except for that first time. It waited for her to come to it. Even when it sent the spirit to find her there was no force involved. She didn't have to follow the spirit. She chose to. Did the Wolf need her consent? Like a demon that needed a host? But even that fell flat in her mind, though she would be hard pressed to explain why. 

“Thank you,” she said. “You saved many lives by leading me here.”

The words 'I am indebted to you' came to her tongue. Senna bit them back. She knew she was. But she would not admit it when the words could prove binding. The Wolf bowed its head.

“The way you appear to me. Is that your true form?” she broached. It paused for a moment, then shook its head in a no. 

“Why? What do you have to gain by deceiving me like that when you say you want my trust?” she asked. The Wolf tilted its head as if considering how to answer. Finally its nose nudged towards one of the swirling spirits. 

Was that supposed to be an answer? 

Senna huffed. Her hands fell to her hips, brow furrowing. Fine. She would just have to puzzle this out herself. 

This was not the Wolf's true appearance. But it was how she saw it. Did it use her Dalish heritage to appear a certain way? Or did what she know of Fen'Harel affect what she saw?

And something clicked in her mind. She remembered what Solas told her some few weeks ago. 'If you come looking for a demon you will certainly find one.' So it was her? Senna looked again at the six eyed beast waiting patiently several strides from her. It looked the way she wanted, the way she decided Fen'Harel would look. That would explain how its appearance changed over time. If the Fade was reflecting what she wanted to see, and what she saw of the Wolf kept changing, of course its appearance would do the same. Solas had told her of the way spirits reflected her emotions but she never truly believed him. Until now. 

The next question would be whether she could see the Wolf's true form. If the spirits around its head reacted to what she wanted to see, and she had no expectation, would they reflect the reality at her?

Senna breathed deep, let her eyes fall shut and her muscles relax, and concentrated her mind. She had not meditated in some time. Knowing the Wolf was watching didn't make it any easier but she focused on the blackness behind her eyelids. She sifted through her childhood fears of the Dread Wolf, the tales repeated a thousand times so she would know them by heart, the plays put on to display the Betrayal, and threw them to the back of her mind, one by one. It was no easy task. She would peek her eyes open to find the same wolf as before, then close her eyes and start over. She tried to think of the Wolf after she met it, tried to think of the gentle way it nudged her back to guide her and the way it breathed life onto her when she lay unconscious in the snow. 

Her meditation captured her so deeply she lost sense of the physical and swayed through the blackness though she knew her body was standing still. She'd been sucked down deep into her own mind. But when she did push back to the front and drag her eyes open, it was with the result she wanted. 

Fen'Harel was not made of shadow and blood. It was a noble beast in shades of grey. It did not have six eyes but two, bright and stormy blue. The natural power rolling from it was no longer marked with terror and despair but soft waves of comfort, a sense of protection more felt than understood. And with that feeling came a potent realization of its intent. It kept trying to protect her – from death, from the elements – and if that was its purpose without her own perception to muddy the water, she could only guess at what it had been trying to tell her from the beginning. 

Senna took a deep breath. This was it. She owed it her trust. And now she knew. She'd been wrong. Only one question remained, the question she had avoided from the start, the question that would give it power. 

“Why have you come to me?”

The Wolf immediately stood to its full height. Senna's heart caught, beating hard somewhere between her throat and chest. She watched Fen'Harel turn and wait. It was ready to lead if she was willing to follow. Senna swallowed her apprehension and stepped forward. 

They left the gates, passed over the bridge, and faded through the woods straight into Therinfal. Her confusion was immediate. Why here? But she kept her questions to herself as the Wolf led her along the path she remembered from when they brought down the red templars under the Lord Seeker. They came to the stairs leading to the main hall. A memory of the explosion played briefly but the Wolf was already moving and she couldn't stop to watch the Lord Seeker's deception. 

They stepped through the large doors but it didn't lead to the hall. They stepped through darkness, then seemed to appear in a small room layered in dust. Torchlight flickered long shadows across the faces of the men in the room. Senna and the Wolf stood to the side, invisible observers.

She saw Solas held captive by red templars, saw the Lord Seeker, a malicious grin on his lips, grip the man. The same Fade green as her mark glowed across both of their eyes. It was only a handful of heartbeats. Senna's apprehension grew tenfold. She wasn't sure she wanted to watch this. Whatever it was. 

Then they parted. Solas gasped and nearly collapsed and when Senna's eyes traveled to the Lord Seeker he was no longer there. Another Solas, identical to the real one – if any of this was real – had taken his place. Senna's stomach dropped straight to her toes. 

“What – what is this? What are you showing me?” She turned to the Wolf, all accusation and disbelief. Fen'Harel had been watching her from the beginning. Now it nodded its nose towards the scene, encouraging her to continue watching. Senna turned her eyes back with reluctance and a growing dread gnawing in her chest. 

“Your guise will not last if you truly intend to approach the Herald,” the Solas held by the templars said. 

The copy smiled. “Solas, have you forgotten so easily? I have seen your thoughts and even you do not believe they know you well enough to spot an imposter.”

Senna's head began to shake in denial as it all played out. She flinched back, a shudder crawling up her spine, when the first blow from the templars landed and the obvious pain clenched across Solas' face. When she heard his nose break under the pressure of the next blow and saw the fresh blood drip down his face she turned away. 

“Stop! Stop this! What cruel game is this? I thought you wanted my trust,” Senna said to the Wolf. Its old eyes met hers and her stomach flopped. It couldn't be real. Her head spun and she glanced away, but the only other place to look was the horrible scene before her. 

“I thought I was missing something,” the imposter Solas said. It stole the necklace she had admired on occasion from around her friend's neck. Senna shook. “I would do this myself but I should not be late for my appointment.”

She saw the desperation shine in Solas' eyes as the copy – was it a demon? could that be possible? – left him to his fate. 

“No. No no no no,” Senna pleaded. Her eyes clenched shut. It was just a nightmare. It was a dream and she needed to wake up. The Wolf was lying again. The Wolf was lying. It had to be. The Wolf always lied.

She still heard the dense, sick crack of bone and the scream of pain from Solas that rattled under her skin. Senna shoved her palms against her ears. 

“STOP IT,” she cried, tears hot on her face. 

Senna woke face down in her tent. She gasped, tears cooling on her cheeks, and looked around at the real world. It was a dream. It was only a dream. It had to be. She jerked to look at Solas sleeping beside her. And her heart thudded at the knowledge he wasn't really Solas. She examined his face for any sign of his deception but could find nothing in the short seconds she was willing to stay in her bed. 

She threw herself out of the tangle of sheets and shoved her tunic on as she escaped into the cold morning. Her mind was falling apart. A few of the early risers greeted her but she couldn't see them through wide, dilated eyes. 

If that was real, that happened at Therinfal. That explained the explosion. It was a distraction. To get Solas away so the Lord Seeker could steal his form and his place. To get to her. Solas wanted her after Therinfal. After Therinfal. They'd been together. And it wasn't real. None of it was real. It was a lie and she bought it and now the real Solas was long dead. 

Senna collapsed in the garden. Whatever might have been left in her stomach came burning up her throat. 

What had she done? What had she allowed into her own bed? How could she have doomed a man she thought she knew? When all the while the man she called lover was an imposter. 

She coughed and spit the remaining bile from between her teeth. Whatever came next she felt in her bones that the Wolf had not lied. What she saw was real. 

Now it was time to deal with the real beast.


	15. Envy Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I didn't mean to finish this chapter all at once but oh well XD 
> 
> Thank you all for the overwhelming response to the last chapter. I'm glad everyone's excited to see Envy go down! Though it might not be that easy . . . .

Senna wasn't sure what was worse: allowing that _thing_ to lay with her on multiple occasions or causing the brutal demise of a man she admired. She sat on her knees, shuddering, thinking of every time she'd been uncomfortable or doubted Solas' intentions. She'd known. She'd known something was wrong and she ignored it. How could she betray Solas like that? Did she really know nothing of him that she allowed herself to be fooled so easily? 

Her fingers caught and pulled at the roots of her hair, tears springing fresh in her eyes. And she remembered the day before, what that thing asked her to do, what she willingly agreed to. Another convulsion of disgust shook her but there was nothing left in her stomach. She gagged dryly, making a desperate effort to pull her mind together. Now was not the time to dip into madness. The creature would know it was found out, and going by how it treated Solas she had no doubt it would attack. 

The knowledge that she was responsible for what came next steeled her. Senna stood and quelled her shaking limbs. She needed a plan.

The garden was fairly empty save a few people. One older woman kept glancing at her in concern but said nothing. Senna set a frown on her lips and observed the exits, the high walls, the defensibility from various angles. It was as good a place as any to trap the creature. Most other places were too open, too filled with people. She laid out her battle plan and the focus brought vengeance burning through her body. That thing, demon, whatever it was, would die by her hands. 

She strolled back out to the courtyard with confidence. There was one person she needed in order to set this in motion. Senna passed back through the scattered tents, giving brief nods to those that greeted her. 

There was a table set up near the medical tents. That was where she found Cullen and Leliana with their scattered reports and scouts at the ready. Her heart fell when they smiled warmly upon her approach. 

“Leliana, if I might steal you away for a moment,” Senna said without preamble. The spymaster glanced at her companion. 

“Of course.” She handed the note in her hand to Cullen and followed Senna to a more secluded area. There were questions on her brow but she asked none of them. 

“We have a situation,” Senna said, turning to face Leliana. “And I need your discretion.”

“You have it,” she answered in an instant. “What is this about?” 

Senna opened her mouth to explain, shut it again, and shook her head. “You wouldn't believe me.”

“You'd be surprised,” she said with a small smirk. 

“It doesn't matter. I just need you to trust that I know what I'm doing.”

Leliana nodded. Senna breathed deep. “As discreetly as possible, I need you to gather our best templars and station them around the garden in these places.”

She drew out a diagram in the dirt as she spoke, marking the location of each person. “Cassandra, Blackwall, and Bull should be at the entrance to the courtyard, along with any soldiers Cullen deems trustworthy. Varric and Sera should be here, and Vivienne here, leading those on the upper level. When you have informed everyone of their duty, send a messenger to Solas asking him to meet me in the garden. When he has arrived they can assume their positions.”

“To . . . Solas?” Leliana asked.

Senna frowned. “You have to trust me. And pray to your god that none of this will be necessary.”

The spymaster hesitated for a heartbeat. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you. I will be in the garden.” 

Senna took the long way around back to the garden. She wanted to keep 'Solas' from seeing her too early and ruining the plan. So she wandered through the dilapidated castle, doing her best to act as if all was normal. 

“Ah, Herald,” someone called as she entered the main hall. Senna turned to see Dorian at the entrance to a rotunda she only glimpsed once. 

“Please, call me Senna.” Creators knew she didn't need another reason to hate the title. 

“Alright, Senna. This is a magnificent castle, despite the obvious disrepair. I was told Andraste herself guided you here in dream,” he said. 

Senna snorted. “Of course they'd say that.”

“I'm not surprised. Most things have a reasonable explanation beyond divine intervention. Though you must admit it was a miraculous turn that you knew of such a place.”

She thought of the blue eyed wolf and smiled. “It was miraculous. I won't deny that. But Andraste had nothing to do with it.”

“Keep your secrets, then. I will only thank you for introducing me to such an extensive library. However much of it can be salvaged, at least,” he said. 

“You're quite welcome,” Senna said with a little bow. She moved to leave but Dorian stopped her again. 

“I would like to thank you for earlier as well. I'd not gotten the chance before but I do appreciate you giving me an opportunity here. It means a great deal. Most Southerners don't look kindly upon my people,” he said. 

“The same can be said of my people. But you knew that,” she said. 

Dorian's mustache twitched, whether in amusement or discomfort she couldn't tell. He nodded. “Whatever they may think of the Dalish, you hold a lot of sway here. Do not doubt that.”

Senna didn't have the heart – or the time – to tell him it meant nothing. She would be gone soon anyway, all the triumph of victory already spoiled. “Thank you. I have an appointment to keep.”

“Of course.”

She came through to the low stone wall that separated a walkway from the rest of the garden. She swallowed hard, heart quickening the instant she saw two men already on the battlements. They were leaning on the railing overlooking the garden, talking amicably. It made her feel better and worse in the same moment. 

Waiting was the hardest part. She didn't know how long it would take Leliana to complete her task, or when Solas would arrive after the message was delivered. Senna paced across the grass. Her thoughts fluttered over battle plans and all the possible reactions of the demon she could think of. Her head shot up when she realized she left out one very important part of her strategy: her staff. She cursed low at the oversight. But by then it was too late. 

Solas had come to meet her. 

Her breath stilled. The imposter certainly knew his act well. He had the same sway in his hips, the same quirk on his lip when he saw her. And in that moment she doubted everything. 

It really was Solas, wasn't it? The dream had been fake, no more than conjurings of her imagination. She made a big scene for nothing. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

“Is everything alright? You called for me,” he said. 

Blood thundered through her. She no longer knew what to say. “I'm fine. I just . . . I was remembering something I told you when we first met, when you shared your fears with me. Do you remember?”

He hesitated, indecision in the single breath he took before giving his response. Senna's resolve rushed back to the fore.

“I would not so easily forget,” he said. His fingers reached up to brush her jaw. She resisted the flinch in her skin but couldn't completely stop it. He noticed and a dark frown curled his lip. His hand retreated. 

“What did I say to you?” she challenged quietly. 

He chuckled. “Does it matter now? That was some time ago.”

“It's important. What did I say?” Her hands clenched. 

A snarl of annoyance caught on his teeth. “I cannot know what you are thinking. Stop playing games.”

“You don't know. Because you're not the real Solas,” she hissed. 

He snapped faster than she could see, his fingers clenched tight around her throat. Senna gasped half a breath as her hand dug into the muscles on his arm. Knowing it wasn't Solas did nothing to quell the stab of betrayal in her chest. 

“Aren't you clever?” he said, lip curled. 

The pressure was growing fast behind her eyes and deep in her lungs. In the next second the others would act and she would be saved, but he must have known they were there for his free hand shot out to the sky. A thick barrier curved over every open space to the garden. All hope of escape was sliding from her with each lost breath. Senna watched a few arrows bounce off the hazy dome, heard the frantic shout of new orders, and despaired. 

Her left hand sizzled, the anchor's power awakening in her distress. Senna's brow hardened and teeth clenched as she moved to strike Solas. He caught her arm in an unmovable grip. The confusion at his too quick reaction must have shown on her face. A dark grin split wide across his lips and he leaned in to her ear.

“I know all of you, Lavellan.”

She struggled, clawed at his arm with tears in her eyes, blackness eating at the corners of her vision. No, this was wrong. This was all wrong. 

Solas jerked his head back, focused on something behind her. With a snarl he looked down through her eyes and the world fell away. 

They were no longer in the garden. It looked like the garden, but it was all in shades of Fade green. Solas was now two paces away with eyes glowing the same green as her anchor. She could breathe again. Not that it was liberating in the slightest. 

“So you discovered me,” he purred. “Do I have your wolf friend to thank for that?”

“What are you?” Senna spat.

His hands lifted, palms up as if waiting for her applause. “I am Envy.”

She watched as he moved to circle her. His arms folded behind his back in imitation of Solas. “You may be asking yourself 'why would a demon want a mortal's body if not for possession?'” 

He paused, smirked. “Solas wondered it, at least.”

Her breath hitched. He continued. “It is all very simple. I first saw it in the Fade: a beacon of power so bright it attracted the attention of every spirit. I was playing the Lord Seeker at the time. But his power was a pebble at the foot of this mountain. I knew I had to have it. The anchor would be mine.”

Senna clenched her hand around her left wrist. It was true the anchor glowed when she was in the Fade. She had no idea it attracted spirits from a distance. Would every spirit and demon be after it? She remembered Fen'Harel's wisps, remembered the one that touched her hand. Was it after that power too? She was a fool not to realize there might have been some importance to the little spirit's actions. 

“I took his form because you wanted him. The anchor is tied to your emotion and the way your body responds to it. I claim your body, the anchor reacts, and I feed on the excess energy. Experiencing physical pleasure was an . . . enjoyable side benefit,” Envy chuckled. 

Senna shuddered, nails digging into her flesh, tears sliding in hot rivulets down her cheeks. 

“Why would you – you asked me to pleasure you,” she choked. 

“Hm, I did, didn't I? When we met I was the Lord Seeker. You told him the Inquisition would 'never bend the knee'. Yet you did get on your knees for me. I told you you couldn't know how satisfying it was. But perhaps now you do.”

Senna was slipping fast. He was still circling her but she covered her face with her hands, the damned anchor shining bright in her eye. She shook with a deep cry of abject despair on her lips. 

“How did I taste on your tongue?” Envy taunted at her ear. 

She snapped. Her arm came around to attack him. He dodged out of the way and she swung again. 

“I will kill you,” Senna shrieked. It didn't matter that he looked like Solas. She wanted to burn his face straight off. 

Envy laughed. “How will you do that? I know too much of you now. And I've gained some interesting new tidbits in here. You know you killed Solas. Just like you killed Ellana and Feriel and Vann.”

Senna instantly deflated. She stared wide eyed at Envy, wondering how he knew that. How could she win if he knew her thoughts, her fears, her regrets? Was this where she would die? To this demon?

“It wants you to be frightened, fleeting, faded. You don't have to let it. It's your head.”

Senna turned to look at the young man that spoke. He looked strange, a little too pale, his hat a little too big. He raised his head and there was a fire in his eyes Senna knew well. 

“What?” Envy snarled. “Get out of here, thing!”

But the demon was the one that retreated. Senna breathed. She wiped her sleeves across her cheeks to dry them and turned a wary gaze on the boy. 

“I'm Cole,” he explained. “I came to help. Envy has to die.”

“How did you get here? Wherever here is,” Senna asked. Her heart was finally calming now that Envy's oppressive presence was farther away. 

“I came to warn you but Envy came first. The garden is real. We're there. You're there. Frozen, waiting for the end for the battle. Others were outside trying to get to Envy but they couldn't reach through. I did. Reached in. Now I'm here. In you. With you. It's hard to explain,” he said, wringing his fingers together. 

Senna vaguely understood what he was saying. “You want to help me?”

“Yes. Envy needs your face now that you know his old one. He needed pieces but I can help you keep whole. If you can find him you can push him,” Cole said. 

“Alright, I think I know what you're talking about. We just follow Envy?” Senna confirmed. 

“Yes, it will stretch, strain, strip away until there's not enough Envy to stay.”

Senna looked at the entrance to the courtyard. Somehow she knew that was the way to go. She didn't know if she was ready to fight Envy, but at least she now had someone at her back.


	16. Death of Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Envy gon die.

Cole was the first to step forward. Senna remained rooted in place. She had to move forward. That was the only way to get out of here, the only way to break Envy's hold, but her body refused her command. Instead it shivered pathetically. She bared her teeth, clenched her fists. Nothing. All she managed to feel was a trickle of new tears on her cheeks. 

Her companion turned back and took her hand. “I'm here.”

Laughter at the thought that this stranger could help her fragile state bubbled into her throat but ultimately dissipated. As hard as it was for her to believe, his presence really was a comfort. And his touch was enough to push her forward. 

They pressed on together through the courtyard and straight into the forest. The woods were not at all reminiscent of the Frostbacks. In fact, it looked quite a bit like the Marches. It looked like home. 

Senna's breath caught, her fingers tightening around Cole's hand, when a small hooded figure passed by in the muted light until it disappeared into the darkness. She knew that girl. And she remembered Envy's promise that it knew all her secrets. 

The young elf, hood drawn to cover her face, snuck back in their direction. A halla followed, reined with a thin rope that hung loose in the child's small hand. Its pelt seemed to shine under the moonlight of her memory. 

“Come on,” the young Senna whispered. 

Her heart clenched as she watched the halla obediently keep in step, unaware of its fate. They stopped in a clearing she remembered. An altar of leaves and stolen incense awaited them. 

“I'm sorry,” her young self said as she bid the halla to kneel with her on the makeshift altar. She pulled her hood back and Senna glimpsed her own solemn face, still round with youth, without vallaslin or scar and only a smatter of freckles. Her hair was long then. The red waves dipped into the back of her cloak. “This is the only way.”

Ba'las the halla mother licked at her forehead and hair. The child hugged her around the neck – Senna remembered that was when she almost faltered – before finally pulling the stolen dagger from beneath her cloak. In one quick, practiced stroke, she slit the halla's throat. And there in the dark, shining with halla blood, Senna prayed to the Dread Wolf. 

It never answered. Even before she knew why her prayer went unheard, she regretted that night. She never told a soul about what she'd done.

“How dare you,” Senna shuddered, anger and grief tight on her tongue.

“An acceptable sacrifice to achieve your goal,” Envy's voice echoed. The young Senna turned to face them, eyes glowing green, and dragged the blade across her own throat. She fell silently to ash. “I could give you what you desired. I could make you so much more.”

“Silence,” Senna hissed. 

“You didn't know,” Cole said. “You thought it would help. It would bring her back.”

“Please, Cole,” she said. She took a deep breath and removed her hand from his. “Let's just keep moving.”

They came upon Haven next. It was as she remembered it, though the people that watched them pass by all had the tell tale mark of Envy's influence on their eyes.

“Did you see her? The Herald of Andraste.”

“She's an elf! And here to save us. Maybe I was wrong about their kind.”

“Worship the Herald! Worship the elf! Give your praise to Senna Lavellan.”

Senna snorted. “Oh, please. You cannot think appealing to vanity will win me over.”

“You don't even know what you could have,” Envy snarled back. “What the Inquisition could become. When I have your face, when I am Herald, I will make it into a mighty empire. Imagine what you might have accomplished. Imagine making every human pay for their slight.”

And before she could help it Senna did entertain the thought of seeing humans on their knees, begging her forgiveness, subservient to her people, paying for hundreds of years of -

“Or don't,” Cole interrupted. “It's your head. You don't have to listen.”

Senna grit her teeth. She'd almost been caught. With lips pursed tight, she marched on. Envy's howling laughter followed. 

“You refuse my offer? Fine. I have other ways to take your face,” Envy said.

Before she could take a step, their surrounding melted away as it only could in a Fade dream. They were in the Marches once more. This time there was no doubting where they were, as the sails of the aravels loomed overhead. 

“Senna.”

She whipped around to see Elris, her best friend and confidante, standing there looking at her with the same expression as the day she turned him away. His jaw clenched. 

“How could you do this to our clan?” he spat. “Abandoning your family would have been enough. And now you use us for your gain? You killed her. It was your fault.”

He leapt at her, death in his eyes. “No!” she breathed. Her hand came up on instinct to stop his attack. A gentle press against his chest would have been enough to halt him but her hand barreled through as if passing through water. 

There was a moment – a breath – where she looked him in the eye, felt the blood hot on her arm and the beat of his heart in her palm, and saw the betrayal in those green depths she once loved. Senna jerked back. His heart was in her hand. She dropped it as if it burned. 

“Elris! Elris!! I-” she called desperately. 

“I loved you,” he said as he fell. Senna shrieked and held her bloody hand out as if it acted on its own. Slowly, she curled in on herself, the scream on her tongue turning to panicked gasps. 

“At this rate she'll kill the whole clan,” someone hissed behind her. 

“What use is a First that can't keep us safe? Kill her before she gets the chance to do more damage.”

A hand touched her shoulder and she lashed out blindly. Cole caught and held her arm. “It's alright. None of this is real.”

The haze lifted. How easily she'd forgotten. She looked up at the aravels, the familiar faces of her people, the tall pines of the Marches. It felt the way she remembered. And yet it wasn't real. Wasn't it?

“Envy used them to make you afraid,” he said. 

Right. The Envy demon. Senna shook her head, pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. Remember. The demon was trying to posses her, to gain control of the Inquisition. The demon that tricked her. The one that posed as Solas. The one that killed him. 

Her head snapped up again. She glanced at the murderous faces of the people she knew and loved. 

“Cole, I don't have a weapon. May I use yours?” she asked. 

The human unsheathed a dagger and passed it into her hand. Senna stepped forward, stomach churning, resolute in what she had to do next. 

Tanis, an older woman who taught Senna everything she knew about hearth keeping, attacked first. It was far too easy to cut her down. And the next. And another after that. Even the children came to kill her. Senna marked each one in her mind, letting the blood splattered over her face and clothes fuel her rage over Envy's cowardice. It would pay for using her family against her like this. 

“Face me, creature,” she cried as the last elf fell. “I defy your treachery.”

“Still as brash as ever, I see.” The woman's voice was one Senna only knew in dreams now. Her mother stepped forward, a bronze goddess with Elgar'nan's marks shining like golden sunlight on her face. 

Now Senna knew it was all a dream. It was Envy's greatest mistake, using Vehra's form. The woman had been dead nearly eighteen years. 

Senna laughed, madness creeping into her chest at the sight before her. All the times she'd wanted to glimpse her mother again and this was what she got. Her fingers clenched around the wet dagger. 

“You would kill me?” Vehra stared down her nose as Senna neared. “Then I suppose I made the right choice.”

Without a word, Senna dug the dagger deep between her mother's eyes. She watched the copy fall and looked for her next target. 

“I will destroy everything I ever loved if it lets me kill you,” Senna promised. 

“No! It's not fair,” Envy hissed. It's voice was nearer, more solid. “That thing kept you whole.”

Rough hands grabbed at Senna's shoulders and she came face to face with her own shadow. Envy. It held her by the lapels of her coat. 

“We'll start again. More pain this time,” it said.

“It's frightened of you,” Cole observed. 

Senna sneered. She leaned her head back and slammed forward to strike Envy. It broke.

She felt the strange motion of being sucked back into her feet. She was in her own body in the garden. Envy's hold released and its form collapsed until she could see the real face of the creature. Not that it had a face. It was more a bulbous mass with a mouth that opened too wide than anything resembling a person. All of Solas' clothes it was wearing had disappeared. The wolf jawbone remained. She remembered how Envy stole it in her Fade dream. It screeched, the sound tinning through Senna's bones. 

For a moment it scrambled away from her on spidery legs. But they both realized the barrier was still in place and Senna's hands were empty. The demon cried once more, voice at a shrill frequency that stunned her senses. It charged forward. 

Cole came between them, deflecting the blow with one dagger in the same moment Senna stumbled and tried to move. She righted herself, looked for something, anything to use to fight with. Everything this side of the barrier was greenery and dirt. All the weapons were outside and beyond her reach. She looked back to her companion to see Envy take a successful swipe at Cole. A burst of magic sent the boy crashing into the barrier. He fell limp against the ground and did not move. 

“Cole!” 

Envy turned on her again. It was quick despite its size. Long limbs propelled it forward. Senna crouched, ready. She Fade stepped away at the last second, rushing across the available space to put distance between them. 

She knew they had templars in their rank. Surely they were working on taking down the barrier. She just needed to last long enough for the forces gathered to get in and get to Envy. Senna gave a quick survey of the people on the other side. She caught the tail end of a shouting match between Cassandra and Cullen, saw the Seeker land a single, swift punch that floored the commander, and thought that some of the demon's power was affecting those outside. But when she Fade stepped again she saw that there was order on the other side. Everyone was waiting, weapons ready, for the barrier to come down.

The waiting game became a game of cat and mouse. Senna utilized the one ability that could keep her safe, never bothering to try and attack. It was too fast for her to simply run. Still, Envy advanced. They both knew she couldn't run, especially that way, for much longer. 

The fifth time she stepped across the Fade Senna came out again dizzy. She barely kept her wits to step away again. And that was the last time. Vertigo rushed up to meet her, turned her world until she fell over, and still kept turning. Envy saw its opportunity.

Were it not for the rigorous training she underwent with Solas, her instincts never would have reacted in time. But the barrier was automatic now. Senna pressed her mana into a shield as she tried to right her vision and her bearings. Envy screeched and clawed at the invisible wall. It would not last long. She did not have the energy to sustain it. 

She would've liked to see the demon die. There was no doubt it would, not with so many witnesses waiting to cut into it, but she wouldn't be the one to kill it.

All at once there was a low thrum of dispelling magic. Her barrier shattered like brittle glass. For a moment, it felt like she could hear clearly again. A battle call was raised. Envy reared its claws back. Senna tried to move one last time.

Pain ruptured in her side as Envy's fingers dug deep. A war cry answered her scream and Senna had the satisfaction of seeing an impressive mallet collide with Envy's head. The creature fumbled on the ground as her savior took the chance to drag Senna up and out of range. She gripped Krem's arm to help him lead her. They stumbled together towards the edge of the garden as other rushed past them into battle.

“Archers!” A rain of arrows answered the command. Immediately after, the warriors moved in with blades bared.

“I need my staff. Get me my staff,” Senna said, disoriented but ready to fight again. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her left side. Krem snorted. 

“Just like the Chief. Maybe you want to think about not dying before you start trying to fight. That’s not exactly a scratch.”

He waited long enough for a healer to arrive to attend her wounds before he hoisted his weapon - was that a dragon’s skull? - onto his shoulder and turned back to the battle. Senna could see Bull up on the front line, using his weight and size to push Envy off balance whenever he could. 

“Krem,” she said to stop him. “Don’t let them kill that thing without me.”

He sighed. “Aye. You deserve that much, at least.”

The woman attending Senna pulled at her coat and lifted her tunic to get to the bleeding wound. Her side felt hot with the escaped blood. It slid down to soak into the hem of her pants and dripped against the ground. 

“Just stop the bleeding. Don’t worry about the rest,” Senna said, gritting her teeth. The thrill of battle only kept the pain away for so long. 

“Yes, Your Worship.” The woman frowned, as all healers did, but didn’t complain.

“I need a staff,” Senna repeated as the healing magic touched on skin and muscle. She watched the battlefield, itching to get in there and do something. Vivienne was the only mage in the fight. While her ice spells were powerful and stopped Envy from killing more than one man on the field, she was hampered by her position stuck on the battlement above. No, wait. There was another. Dorian had joined the fray at some point. She noticed him when he summoned a bolt of lightening that would've killed a lesser demon.

“You need to sit still,” the human woman beside Senna commanded. The anchor crackled with her impatience. The healer pulled back, terror in her eyes. 

Senna sighed. “Just hurry. Please.”

The woman grit her teeth and worked in silence. 

“What's your name?” Senna asked. 

“Edith.”

“Thank you, Edith.”

The human looked at her with new eyes and bowed her head slightly. “I am happy to serve, Your Worship.”

Envy screeched again, louder and harder than before. She'd heard the sound from terror demons before but it was nothing like this. Everyone in range stopped. Some fell to their knees. With a pulse of energy Envy threw off all of its attackers. Most laid on the ground, disoriented, while some tried to stand again. But they couldn't stop the demon now.

“I will have you, Lavellan,” Envy said. Its voice was a strange mixture of her own and several others. 

Senna pushed herself to her feet to greet the challenge. 

“Wait! Your wound could still reopen. I haven't finished,” Edith said. 

She ignored her. Envy would come barreling toward her in the next second whether she was fit or not. So the mark reacted to her emotion? Fine. Senna poured all of her hatred and disgust into her arm until the anchor flared up with its own magic. 

Envy propelled forward. A couple arrows hit on it but the creature ignored them in favor of its true target. Senna raised her arm, hoping it would do something – make a rift, explode with power, anything. 

Envy halted, pulled into the wake of a new crack in the Veil she created. It clawed the ground, pulling up grass and dirt in its desperate crawl towards her. But it was trapped. At least temporarily. 

Senna took a breath, saw Iron Bull stumble to his feet not far away from Envy. She called on all her mana, her will, the energy of her body, to bring fire into existence along her hands and arms. And while Envy was still caught she ran headlong towards it. 

“Bull!” she warned. Flames rushed across her skin, consuming her torso and running down her legs. 

“Oh shit,” the qunari grumbled. But he knew what she needed and got into position, hands outstretched, low enough for her to leap onto. His large palms dropped under her weight for a second, then propelled her up. She never would have reached Envy's face on her own. But with that boost she caught the creature around the neck, knees digging against its chest. She cried, pouring more of herself into the crude spell. Envy screeched until she couldn't hear. One of its smaller arms scraped at her back. Senna kept her hold, kept her fingers on its neck and the fire burning with every ounce of her need for vengeance. 

Its face melted first, skin hanging in loose folds until she could see bone. It was not enough. The thing was dead now but it was not enough. She held on, still burning as it fell. She held on until everything above its shoulders was ash. 

Senna relented when there was nothing left in her to fuel the fire. She gasped for breath, her clothes smoking at the edges where she lost control, and stared hard at the charred earth where Envy's head used to be. It wasn't enough. 

She screamed again, fists pounding the ground with unsatisfied rage. She wanted to kill it again. She wanted to kill it a thousand times in a thousand ways until the sick knot in her chest loosened. It was dead, as she promised, but that didn't erase any of the damage done. And Solas. This wouldn't bring him back either. 

Senna pulled away from the corpse. Her side was aching again, her back stung and head spun, and her ears were ringing, blood tickling down her neck. She reached for the stolen necklace. The leather cord burned in the fire but the old jawbone survived. Her thumb caressed the bottom row of teeth. 

“I said 'However I had to',” she murmured. Another promise broken. 

She didn't pay any mind to those recovering around her. They didn't need her help. A hand fell on her shoulder. 

“He needs you.”

Senna looked up at Cole. Blood was on his cheek but he looked fine. He frowned. She turned his words over in her mind. 

“What?”

“He's alive. Envy's dead and he can be free,” Cole said. “I know where.”

Her hand clenched around the amulet. Senna took off back towards the entrance of the fortress. Her knees gave out and she stumbled briefly before pushing herself up and onward. 

“Dennet!” she called. She ignored the shout of her own name behind her. 

The horsemaster appeared after her second call. 

“What's been going on out here? Sounds like a war zone and no one will say what's happening,” he said. 

“I need our fastest mount. Now.”

He took one look at her bloody visage and charred clothes and called one of his stablehands to get the job done. 

Senna groaned as a new stab shook her left side. She collapsed and pressed her hand into the wound. It felt too warm and wet. She was bleeding again. 

“Senna!” 

She righted herself and looked over her shoulder at Cassandra. 

“Where are you going now?” the human asked. 

“Solas is alive. I'm going to get him,” Senna said. She stumbled back to her feet.

Cassandra snorted. “No. You will stay and recover. We will send out a search party at once-”

“Don't try to stop me,” Senna snarled. “I still have enough mana to do damage.”

It was a lie, of course. She was shaking and bleeding, with hardly enough energy to stand straight. Cassandra frowned, nodded, and called on a passing scout to prepare a pack of food for her. 

“I will inform the others,” Cassandra said. “And . . . I'm sorry.” 

The Seeker left. It didn't take much longer for Dennet to bring around a chestnut hart. Senna stuffed the jawbone into a pack, tied on her rations, and pulled herself into the saddle. She stopped to breathe and almost kicked the hart into motion before she realized she was missing something. 

“Cole?” She looked around for the boy with the large hat. He practically appeared at her call. She couldn't find Solas without him, not if he knew exactly where her friend was. Senna knew it was somewhere in Therinfal, but nothing beyond that.

He climbed in behind her as the hart brayed impatiently. Her head only reached the middle of his chest, but Cole felt surprisingly light behind her. Senna didn't bother to think about it, or about the fact that she was implicitly trusting his word on the matter. She had one goal in mind. 

“Ghilas,” she commanded and dug her heel into the hart's sides. He sprang forward, out the front gate, and down the path. 

They ran for some time, until foam gathered on the hart's lips and Cole suggested they slow to give him rest. Senna agreed reluctantly. No matter how hard they rode, it still wouldn't be fast enough in her mind. Every second could prove fatal if Solas was in as poor condition as she'd seen in her dream. The image kept her focused. 

That focus waned as they trotted over dirt roads toward Therinfal. The slow pace relaxed her more than it should. Her body kept getting heavier, sluggish, and she jerked back every time her head fell forward. Finally Cole took the reins in hand and she was forced to relinquish her consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! Envy's finally dead *throws confetti* But what's this? My outline says we still have two chapters left?? :O 
> 
> I wonder what could happen . . .


	17. Envy's Grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senna finds Solas in the catacombs of Therinfal. Getting him out alive is not an easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Very_ graphic descriptions of surgery ahead. Lots of talk about blood and bones. You've been warned ;_;

Senna woke in front of a small fire, stiff yet warm. She groaned and reached for her throbbing side. It had been bandaged. She could feel the tight cloth around her middle even as her fingers touched the crust of old blood on her tunic.

“Here. Drink,” Cole said. There was a waterskin in his hand. How long had he been in front of her? Senna blinked slowly, ran her tongue over cracked lips, and tried to sit up. She took several great gulps from the skin.

She gasped, wiped her lips, and looked around. It was pitch black in the late hour.

“Why aren't we moving?” she croaked. Not that her body wanted the constant movement of riding in its current state. But she'd gotten good at ignoring what her bones told her.

“Duncan was tired,” Cole said.

“Wha-?” Senna glanced past Cole for the third person he spoke of and saw only their resting mount. “Oh, the hart.”

She rolled onto her hands and knees and tried to push herself up. “We don't have time to baby the hart. Therinfal is too far away to stroll along at such a slow pace.”

“You shouldn't move so much,” Cole responded. He got up and left her while she tried and failed to stand. Senna stopped and rested her forehead on the ground as nausea curled up behind her nose. The human sat down with her, the pack of rations in his hands. She fell onto her good side and tried not to look exhausted.

“You don't want to stop because then you'll have to think. It's too much. Too sharp, stinging in secret spaces,” he said. “It hurts. But not helping would have hurt more. That's why you had to do it yourself.”

“You can see inside my head?” Senna mumbled as she looked up at him under his hat.

He curled his fingers together. “I wanted to help. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's . . . fine. I mean, it makes sense. You were in it for awhile there.” She smiled.

“Yes. You needed me. It made it easy to pass through.” Cole reached into the sack in his lap. 

Senna thought about sitting up. That was as far as she got on the matter. Cole gave her the slice of cured meat and she ate it laying on her side.

“What about you?” she asked, realizing he hadn't eaten anything himself.

“I don't need it,” he said simply.

Senna snorted. She would ask later. “We should keep moving.”

Cole looked off to the east. His head tilted. He looked back to her on the ground. “No. You should sleep.”

“We don't have time,” she snarled and tried to sit up again. But Cole held out his hand to stop her. All of a sudden she forgot what she was trying to do. 

“It's alright. I'll protect you. You don't need to be afraid of sleep,” he said. 

Senna nodded, laid her head down, and stared at the little campfire. “Yeah, I'm pretty tired.”

She didn't realize she slept until she woke. No dreams came to mind, and she was thankful for the relief. Her body was still sore, muscles stiff and aching while her side and back throbbed with a strange beat, but she did feel better than before. 

Senna ate a meager breakfast while Cole talked with Duncan the hart. 

“Can we go now?” she asked him, giving in to the fact that Cole was apparently the one choosing their pace. 

“Yes.” 

So she put out what remained of the fire and approached her companion. Cole let her mount first and settled in behind her. Senna jolted when the hart leapt forward. It seemed to need no direction as it headed precisely the way they needed to go. 

They ran far longer than Senna would have thought the hart was able. She could feel him breathing heavy between her knees. But when she went to pull the reins to slow him, Cole told her he would stop when he wanted to. So they carried on. 

In the silence with the sound of hooves beating a rhythm in her ears, Senna's mind turned to all the unthinkable things lurking in her head. There were so many questions, so many truths she didn't want to consider. Her left hand clenched around the saddle horn when she thought about how Envy found her. No doubt it was how the Wolf found her in the Fade as well. And Cole?

“Solas needed help,” he said out of the blue. 

“What?” Senna glanced over her shoulder at him.

“You wanted to know if I came because of the anchor. I didn't. Envy had to die. Then Solas could be free,” he explained. 

“I see.”

“Envy was looking for power, for more to make it bigger than before. It wanted to find the anchor. Most demons don't know.”

Senna frowned at the curves of Duncan's antlers. “What about the Wolf?”

“He wanted you to know the truth. You weren't safe until Envy was gone,” Cole said. “He doesn't need the anchor now.” 

“He?” She never thought to assign a gender to the Dread Wolf.

“Yes.” He didn't elaborate.

It made her feel a little better to know that two of the three spirits – Cole was a spirit, wasn't he? - she'd encountered recently weren't drawn by the mark in her hand. Still, the thing was a curse. Now that the Breach was closed she was ready to look for a way to get rid of it. Corypheus couldn't remove it, but that didn't mean it was impossible. 

Her mental planning was derailed fairly quickly as her thoughts returned to Envy. 

“That can't happen,” Cole said.

“Is this going to be a thing? I think something in my own head and you respond like I'm talking out loud,” Senna snapped.

“You keep thinking thoughts that hurt. I want to help. You want to know if you might have a demon child. But you can't. Envy can copy and clone, but not create. There was no life in the seed.”

“How do you know?” she grumbled. She was shaking, stomach sickening, just thinking about it. 

“I know.” 

She snorted at his lack of answer, simultaneously annoyed and relieved. She wanted to believe him. Even if she didn't. Only time would be able to give her an answer. 

Cole didn't say much more after that. Perhaps he was giving her space after her outburst at him. Eventually Duncan slowed to a trot, thought they still pressed forward. They stopped only once for a short time before sunset when they came across a brook. 

“I can't believe how far we've gone. It usually takes almost three days to get to Therinfal,” Senna commented. “We might get there in half that time.”

“I told Duncan,” Cole said.

“You told the hart?” Senna confirmed. 

“Yes. Can't you talk to them?” 

“Only the halla. And only if they want to listen,” she said. 

Duncan was determined. He took a few great gulps of water from the brook and bellowed at them. He nudged Cole, pawed at the ground, snorted, waiting impatiently for them to get back in the saddle so they could move on. 

Senna struggled to get on this time. Her side flared with sharp pain when she twisted her torso to swing her leg over Duncan's back. With a quick breath, she did her best to ignore it. She knew it had been too long since they last cleaned it but she could deal with the wound when Solas was safe. 

They rode through the night. Hope came long after the moon rose to its height. Senna pushed Duncan back into a gallop when they saw the firelight of Therinfal Redoubt. 

They were expected. The night watch was stationed at the gate but it was already open. The templar ushered them past until they came to a stop in the main courtyard. Senna dismounted before Duncan was completely stationary. 

“Herald,” Barris greeted, rushing to meet them. Senna watched a stablehand lead Duncan away before turning back to the templar. They'd obviously woken him as he was dressed not in full armor, but a loose tunic, pants, and open boots, as if he hadn't had the time to lace them properly. 

“Ser Barris. I apologize for coming unannounced at such a late hour,” she said. 

“Leliana sent word ahead that you were coming. We were expecting you. Only not so soon. What exactly did you need?” 

“Wake your healer. We'll have need of them.” Senna glanced over the compound and set off the way she remembered the old prison cells were, Cole at her heel. 

“There is no healer here,” Barris called after her, jogging to catch up. Senna stopped and turned. 

“No healer?”

“This is a training facility, mostly new recruits. We don't expect many wounded here. There is a surgeon, however,” he explained. 

“Fine. Get the surgeon. And prepare a space for a severely wounded person.” She didn't know how bad the damage was, but she was prepared for the worst. 

“Ser,” Barris confirmed. Senna was glad he didn't ask questions. 

“Come on, Cole. You know where he is.” 

They passed through the quiet fortress and down to the prison. This was where she needed Cole's direction. He plucked a torch from one of the wall fixtures and carried on to the very back of the disused rooms. At the end he turned right, into a small room with a few cells, and opened one of the prison doors. The wall was broken down and cracked open at the corner. Cole stepped through the thin opening and Senna followed. They came into a pitch dark hall, cramped and narrow. She never would have thought to find such an opening. 

The hall widened out only a few feet down, turning immediately into a maze of stone corridors with open doors leading off of them. The torchlight passing over the entrances revealed old tombs of dust and cobwebs, some with skeletal bodies forever at rest, and others with lines of urns filled with the ashes of previous lives. 

Cole knew exactly which turns to take, and Senna was even more grateful for his presence. She may have gotten lost in the catacombs if she were able to find them in the first place. 

Her heart was beating harsh before they even found Solas, stomach knotted in anticipation, fear, the guilt gnawing up her spine at the thought of what he'd been through because she took so long to reveal Envy. 

Cole finally turned into one of the tombs. Senna stopped at the door for only a second, dread overwhelming her senses, before she pushed herself forward. The torchlight flickered over the blood and scuff marks on the floor where the dust had been disturbed. And further in, a cage barely large enough for the elf curled up inside. 

“Solas,” she croaked. The left side of his face was swollen and purple, eye sealed shut under the bruising. She couldn't tell if he was conscious. But he was alive. His chest rose and fell in a soft rhythm. 

Cole touched her arm. Senna swallowed, nodded, and approached. She licked her lips as she knelt at the door. The seal ripped off easily but there was a lock beneath it. 

“I can do that,” Cole said. He passed her the torch and set to work picking the lock. 

“Solas,” Senna called again. But her voice was stuck in her throat, too low to wake the man. She glanced over his illuminated face. His strong cheekbones were sickeningly prominent as he'd lost most of the fat of his cheeks. He was normally so bulky for an elf, but now the skin on his bones was taut with approaching emaciation. He must not have eaten the entire time he was here. Senna's heart dropped. That was nearly three weeks ago. 

The door swung open with a dull creak. His good eye cracked open, then widened. 

“You came,” he said, voice hoarse, surprise and awe on his cracked lips. 

“Solas, I-” But there were no words sufficient for what she wanted to say. 'I'm sorry' would never be enough. “Let's get you out of here.”

He shifted, leaned forward, but he didn't have the strength to pull himself up and the dimensions of the prison were too small to allow proper movement. 

“Sorry,” he breathed and fell back. “I can't manage it.”

Senna passed the torch back to Cole and sat down to scoot backwards into the cage. “Grab on.”

Solas leaned in and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. For one brief moment panic sprung in her heart. He could so easily curl his fingers into her throat. But no, the hand gripped her coat as he waited for her to move. Senna forced herself to breathe. She leaned forward and they maneuvered together out of the cage. She hissed as the pressure of his chest against her made her back burn. 

“What – AH!” Senna nearly dropped him when Solas cried next to her ear. His grip tightened with surprising strength as he choked a stilted breath. 

“What? What?” she asked, looking desperately for what caused him pain. 

“My leg,” he gasped. Senna glanced down. His swollen right leg had hit against the door on their way out. Even with the discoloration, she could see the bone peaking through skin. 

Cole gently adjusted his position and helped Senna pull all the way up until she was standing, Solas slung awkwardly against her back. She leaned forward and reached behind her to grab under his knees, careful of his injury, until he was resting on her back. She hated how easily she could carry his meager weight. 

“You okay?” Senna asked. 

“In perfect health,” he responded dryly. She frowned and looked at Cole. 

“Lead on.”

It felt like they were down there forever in silence and dust. Solas said nothing more. Senna was sure he'd fallen back asleep. And Cole led her through the maze without a word. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to move her concentration away from the throbbing scratches along her back. 

The narrow hall out to the prison proved the most difficult to maneuver through. Cole was able to drop the torch and help pull Solas past the crack in the prison wall. Once they were back in the light of Therinfal, with Solas safe and alive, Senna felt like she could breathe again. 

“Maker's breath,” Barris said when he saw Solas slumped over her back. “How did you -?”

“Where's the surgeon?” Senna interrupted. 

“This way.” Barris wasted no time getting her to the infirmary, which consisted of three cots perfectly spaced across the small room. The surgeon was a graying woman with a gnarled scar cutting across her jaw. 

“Alright, set him there,” she said, motioning vaguely towards one of the cots. She spared a glance at Senna's face, frowned, and went back to gathering supplies together.

Senna sat on the edge of the cot, letting Solas push himself back and lay down with a soft sigh. Cole appeared beside him with a tankard. Senna had almost forgotten about the boy. Solas leaned up to accept the offered item and drank deep from the cup. 

“Thank you, Cole.” So they did know one another. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Barris asked. Senna saw him standing close to the door. 

“No. But thank you,” she said. She took up the water basin the surgeon had prepared, ignoring the woman's fierce glance, and grabbed a fresh rag to begin cleaning the old blood off. 

The templar nodded. “I'll send word to Leliana first thing in the morning. Nerida, treat him as one of our own.”

“Yes, ser,” the surgeon muttered. She offered a healing potion to Solas and looked him over as Barris left. “Just the leg, then?”

“Yes. I took care of the rest,” Solas said. “Except the ribs, but you can do nothing for them.”

Nerida fixed him with a disbelieving glare. She grabbed his ankle and prodded at the protruding bone. Senna watched Solas' jaw clench as she rung out the wet rag. She swiped it over the cut on his head – the same one, she knew, from the explosion Envy set off. Only now did she notice the stubble of hair growing on his scalp. Her hand moved to his ear and the bloody crescents that showed where the templar gripped him. She swallowed her heart with the sudden knowledge of how accurate the Wolf's vision had been. 

“Ir abelas, lethallan,” Solas said quietly. Senna looked to his good eye. He had been watching her work. “Ma suledin ir.”

Hot tears sprung behind her eyes. How could she have mistaken Envy for the man before her? How did she dismiss its lack of kindness when Solas showed it so easily? 

“Tel'telir ar,” she whispered back. 

“What's he saying?” Nerida asked.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Senna snapped. 

The human scoffed. She pressed her hands against Solas' leg. “I'll give you a three count.”

He nodded solemnly and gripped the edge of the cot, blood cracked knuckles stretching with the pressure. The healing potion would help but it couldn't completely numb the pain. Senna sat beside him, wishing she could do something. 

“1 . . 2 . .” Halfway to three Nerida gave a shove that rocked the cot. Senna's ear twitched at the sound of bone crunching just before Solas screamed. 

Senna glared at Nerida. The human shrugged. “They always tense for 'three'.” 

He huffed and gasped for breath. She could see how dilated his pupil was. Nerida opened up a poultice.

“Wait,” Solas gasped before she could apply it. “You need to finish.”

“What are you talking about, elf?” 

“You know well . . . there's another bone in the lower leg. It needs to be set,” he said.

She gave a harsh laugh. “I've been a surgeon for thirty years and I won't touch that bone anymore. It's not worth it. I've seen too many people die trying to reset it. You have to cut into the leg and reach between muscle to get at it.”

“Senna is a mage. She can stem the blood while you work,” Solas said. He was regaining his breath, hands flexing to relieve tension. 

“I'm no healer,” Senna amended quickly. “And you're in no state to undergo any kind of invasive surgery.”

“I kept my body from healing for this purpose. If we wait, the bone will fuse improperly. It will have to be rebroken and aligned again. Though there's a fair chance it will never heal in those circumstances. And if we do as the surgeon suggests and leave it, I will not be able to walk properly, let alone fight,” he explained more calmly than she would have expected. 

“Better walking funny than having no leg at all,” Nerida countered. 

“I am telling you what you must do. Both are avoidable in this instance if you heed my advice.”

Senna worried her lip. “You stopped yourself from healing? How?”

“I would be happy to discuss it with you, lethallan. But now is not the time,” he said. Senna noted it was the second time he called her that. Her heart swelled even as she quaked at what he asked her to do. 

“Solas, I don't think I can do that,” she said. 

“I will guide you. And I have seen your ability. You certainly are capable.” Solas pushed against the cot so he could lean on the wall. Despite his calm, she could see the cold sweat on his skin and the shudder of his muscles. 

“I won't do it,” Nerida said, crossing her arms. “Not gonna be responsible for your death.”

“Then I will be held accountable,” Solas said, resolute. “It must be done.”

“You're an ass, you know,” Nerida said. She looked at Senna. 

Senna licked her lips again and nodded. She didn't know much about the medical side of things. That was always Deshanna's forte. But she trusted Solas and his judgement. He was a healer, after all. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Nerida grunted. She left to get the tools she would need for the job.

“When the surgeon cuts into my leg, your duty will be to keep the blood from exiting,” Solas explained. “Use your mana to cycle it through. Think of controlling the course of a river. Or, if it's simpler, think of the way you circle magic through a staff. However in this case, your goal is not amplification, but control. Guide, but do not push. Blood flows naturally from the upper leg to the foot, then pushes itself through the veins back up. If you push down you will engorge the foot. In the same turn, if you do not allow the blood to pass freely and turn it too soon, it will deaden the foot entirely.”

Senna nodded. She watched Nerida return and shove a sheet under his leg. She pulled a chair up to sit next to the cot and brushed a clean rag against the side of his leg. Senna took her spot on the other side, kneeling on the ground so she could reach across. One hand pressed his ankle and the other settled on his knee. She concentrated, softly nudging her mana under his skin. 

She could feel his heartbeat. And she understood what he meant now. The blood rushed on its own, circling in an endless loop bound by bone and flesh. Her task was to keep the cycle unbroken. 

“Okay,” Senna mumbled to Nerida, not looking up from her post. She saw the scalpel press a line into his leg. A few lines of blood dribbled from the opening and Senna increased the pressure of her mana. 

“No,” Solas grunted. “Don't force. Gentle guidance.”

She held her breath and relented, feeling out the movement again to keep the cycle flowing. She could feel him breathing as much as she heard it; harsh yet even. She envied his control.

“Alright, I'm gonna put pressure on it,” Nerida warned. There was no count down. Senna focused herself on the rhythm of his body. 

She heard the dull snap, much less potent than the first. But Solas pitched forward with a muted cry. Senna's instinct pressed to the surface and she let go of everything to catch him. 

“No!” Nerida cried. Blood poured from the open wound. Senna panicked. The mark crackled. The surgeon screamed. And Solas fell limp, completely unconscious. 

“Solas!” Senna called. 

“The hell is going on? Get your magic on this or he'll bleed out,” Nerida said. 

She didn't trust her left arm with the mark active, so Senna pressed her right hand against his leg and tried to shove past her shaking to gain control of his blood again. She tried not to let the flow of her mana be influenced by her anxiety. When she looked, there was red on the sheet and Nerida's hands up to her wrists, but very little coming from the cut. 

“Hold. I have to make sure everything's aligned properly or there's no use in this. It's better when they pass out, so don't worry about him,” the surgeon said. 

It was an agonizing few minutes. He was alive. She could feel his heart beating in her mana. But she kept having to fight for her focus as guilt pressed on her mind. 

“Alright, that's finished,” Nerida said as she tied the end of the stitches. Senna released her hold and blinked away the dizziness pressing on the edge of her vision. She'd exhausted her mana again. 

“He'll be okay?” she asked. Nerida glanced up at Solas' face then went back to applying the poultice. 

“Dunno. Comes down to if he wakes up or not,” she said. 

Senna worried her lip. Nerida wrapped his leg in a stint and cleaned away the bloody sheet before planting a couple pillows under his foot. She called her work done and said she would check on him in the morning. 

Senna, exhausted as she was, couldn't leave him in such a state. His sweater was missing but his under armor was still there. She reached under him to undo the two large buttons and pulled the stiff material off. Underneath it was a mass of black and purple. The patches of his chest that weren't were yellow, or even red. His left leg was better. There was only dirt and a few scrapes and small bruises under his foot wrapping. She left his breeches on. They didn't need to be removed anyway. 

When he was washed clean and she checked one more time to make sure he was breathing, Senna collapsed into the cot next to him. Only then did she feel the throb of her own injury. She'd forgotten to clean it. 

Her last thought was that it could wait till the morning. 

She woke late to Nerida bustling in the infirmary. 

“Oh, at least one of you's awake,” the human said. Senna glanced at Solas. He looked about the same as the night before. 

“Can you help me?” Senna asked. She shoved off her coat and lifted her tunic. The bandages Cole placed were turning yellow, one side dark with old blood. Cole. Where had he gone?

“Maker, woman. Why didn't you tell me you were injured?” Nerida grumbled and fussed as she cleaned and bandaged Senna's side and back, this time with proper healing salves. Some of the dead skin had to be cut from her side. Nerida commented that she was lucky it hadn't been infected. 

Barris came by to report that a raven had been sent to Leliana. His frown pulled deep when he saw Solas. Senna was sure her bandaged state didn't help his worry. She ended up spending the afternoon explaining the story to him. 

“Envy? And it was the Lord Seeker?” he said, remorse heavy in his tone. “How long, I wonder.”

“It's a clever liar,” she said to soothe his doubt. She knew it far too well. 

“This definitely explains some things. Envy is rare. Most templars don't even know of its existence,” he said. 

“Most mages don't either,” Senna added wryly. 

Barris in turn explained what they'd found in the Lord Seeker's quarters. The assassination plot, the Elder One – who they now knew to be Corypheus, and the nearly successful plan to corrupt the templar ranks with red lyrium. 

“You've told Leliana all this?” Senna asked. 

Barris nodded. “And Cullen. We're awaiting their response. We have enough to do rebuilding the Order, but if this Corypheus is as dangerous as the Breach, we must help stop him.”

“Agreed,” she said. Cullen would be happy to have the templars' full support. She wished him luck. 

“You act as if you will not be there,” he broached slowly.

“I won't. My duty is done. I plan to go home,” she said. 

“Oh, I see. You don't see Corypheus as a threat?”

“I do. But dealing with him is better left to organizations like yours or the Inquisition,” she said. 

“You are part of the Inquisition,” he pointed out. 

“I am a tool that has served its purpose.”

“Most people would not say that.”

“Yes and most people call me the Herald of a god I don't serve,” Senna said. 

Barris glanced away. “Yes, well.”

“It doesn't matter. The Inquisition doesn't need me. They have good people for the job already.”

“Perhaps,” he said. The conversation was over. Barris said his goodbye. He didn't call her 'Herald' this time. 

The next day Solas still had not woken. 

“How long will it take?” Senna asked Nerida. 

The older woman frowned. “I told the fool. He breathes but it means nothing. The coma comes before death.”

“What can we do to snap him out of it?” Senna asked. 

Nerida shrugged. “We could try a letting. See if it restores some balance to his humors.”

“A what?” Senna hadn't heard of such a thing before. Or of humors. 

“A letting. You know, release some of the blood clogging the pathways.”

Senna frowned. She'd never hear of such a custom among her people. “But people die when they lose blood.”

Nerida rolled her eyes. “Yes, you don't let out _all_ of it. Just a small amount to restore order within the body. You asked me what we can do for him. That is all.”

“Alright,” Senna breathed. “It's worth trying.”

She sat in the chair by his bedside and watched Nerida set a bowl under one arm. She made a clean cut to the vein at the juncture. There seemed to be an appropriate amount to let out, and when it was done the surgeon tied a bandage over the fresh wound. 

Senna took his cold hand in hers and pressed it to her forehead. She prayed to each of the Creators, and now even to Fen'Harel, that he would live, that this would help, that he would not have to pay everything for her mistake. She fell asleep there, hunched over his cot. 

This was the first night she was saddened that the Dread Wolf no longer visited her in dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma suledin ir - You have endured/suffered much.
> 
> Tel'telir ar - Not only I/ I'm not the only one.


	18. After Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it *wipes tear* I hope you enjoy this very last chapter and how it all wraps up. And if you don't, well . . . .

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. It was behind her, she knew. She could feel it. Senna clawed across the ground, scrambled to get away. She couldn't get anywhere fast enough. Her body was sluggish and weighed down but she couldn't figure out why. It pressed against her back. No, she needed to get away. 

“I know all of you,” it whispered on her neck. Senna elbowed and jerked, tried and tried to get it away. But it had latched on tight. She tried to scream. There was no voice in her throat. 

She flung the creature off her back and turned. It was Solas, blood on his mouth. A gaping hole in his chest. His heart breathed between her hands. 

“Well?” he said, eyes dead and burning on her. “What is your answer?”

And he was Elris. A sneer on his lip, and a green glow sprung in his eyes. 

“I loved you,” it hissed. 

Senna gasped a desperate lungful as she woke. Her chest heaved and she swallowed at the sight of Therinfal's infirmary at dawn. Slowly, she righted herself and regained her breath.

It was a nightmare. The first of many, she would discover, as her mind finally accepted all it had seen over the past few days. 

She pressed both hands to her face, rubbed her eyes, and blinked at the drowsiness clinging to her lashes. She wouldn't sleep anymore. Senna got up to check on Solas. He was breathing, slow and even, as he had the past three days. His skin felt a little cold so she added her own blanked to the small pile laid over him. 

She pulled back the covers to check his leg. It was just beginning to heal. The bruises, too, were starting to change color. Senna set her palms against his skin and concentrated her mana on rejuvenating the injury. Not much, but it was something. 

Her magic had always been focused on amplification and destruction. Healing magic was entirely different, and she was afraid she would hurt him if she forced too much of her unrefined spell into his body. She only wished there was a faster way to heal him, something potent enough to - 

Oh. The thought struck her all at once. A whisper in the back of her mind. It was a terrible idea. She'd never tried it before, and here of all places with templars watching her every move. No, it was impossible. 

She pulled her lip between her teeth as her eyes traced the curve of his sunken cheek, the pale, nearly blue hue to his brow and mouth. If nothing changed soon, he would die. 

Senna turned away and left the infirmary for the first time since they arrived. With the cold air aching in her mending wounds, she set out for somewhere with clean water. 

“Excuse me, where's the washroom?” she asked a passing recruit. 

He looked her up and down, giving special attention to the lines on her face, then nodded to the left. “Up the stairs, to the right, third door on your left.”

She nodded and did as he said. There was a soldier outside to monitor the comings and goings of anyone wanting to use the facility. 

“Name and rank?” she asked, looking at Senna's ears. 

“Senna Lavellan. I'm an acquaintance of Knight-Captain Barris,” she said. 

The woman snorted. “Normally I'd have to turn you away but you're a right mess so go on. Just don't cause any trouble, rabbit.” 

Senna clenched, mana trembling to the surface as the woman unlocked the door. She tamped it down. The mark spluttered softly but she was already inside. There were two other women that looked up from their washing when she entered. Senna ignored them and grabbed her soap, towel, and basin, then went for the spigot on the far wall. She filled her basin and sat on one of the empty stools. 

She got her clothes off easy enough, but Nerida had tied her bandages high up on her back and Senna had to stretch hard to reach the knot. 

“Here, let me,” one of the templars said. 

“Thank you.” Senna sat still as she undid the tie. 

“Looks like you got in quite the fight,” she commented. Senna thought she would leave but the older woman helped unravel the whole thing. “I'll take care of your back, don't worry about that.”

She hadn't realized how much grime and blood had built up on her skin. Halfway through they had to dump the water and start fresh. 

“There's clean uniforms over there. Dunno if any will fit you. And get yourself to the mess for something warm to eat. You look like you need it,” the woman said. 

Senna thanked her and went to the cabinet. As she dressed in the recruit garb, she chanced a look in the thin mirror. Ah. That explained why the older woman was so adamant about helping her. There was a yellowing bruise around the rim of her right eye and deep purple marks in the shape of fingers curled around her throat. That coupled with the long scratches on her back and the puncture in her side made for a nasty picture. 

The templar suggested she eat, but Senna had no appetite. Instead she went to the stables to check on Duncan. The hart was in good shape, having rested a few days once their run was over. He honked when he saw her. 

“Ma serannas, falon,” she told him. His shoulders set back in pride. A frown fell on her. She remembered something, a person. Wasn't there someone else riding with her into Therinfal? But the thought was gone almost as soon as it came. Senna took over the task of brushing out his coat as her mind returned to her terrible idea. 

They would have to kill her. She knew that. But it would be powerful enough to bring Solas back to health, whether she knew the right healing spells or not. 

And she wouldn't deny she felt the hum of untapped power when she pressed her mana into Solas' blood. It was easy to ignore at the time. However, now that she was considering using it herself the potential was tempting. 

After procuring the jawbone from her abandoned pack, as well as a strip of leather, Senna returned to the infirmary. By then Nerida was up and bustling in her usual manner. Senna sat down on the cot, biding her time until the woman left again. Her fingers began to wrap the new cord around the amulet.

Funny to think it angered her the first time she saw it. After hearing how Solas saw the Dalish religion as superstition, she immediately thought the jawbone a quiet mockery. She doubted that as she got to know him, and though she never asked she began to assume it had some more personal meaning. And now, after what she'd seen, she wondered if it was homage to a friend. 

That was the only explanation she could conjure: the Dread Wolf was actually some spirit friend of Solas' and after finding him in trouble set out to warn the one that could save him. Why else would he disappear after she knew the truth? Though it did make her question whether he was a true god or a spirit, and how much of what her people knew was wrong about him. 

It didn't matter anyway. She would never get a chance to tell anyone, not that any Dalish would believe her story, and she imagined the Wolf knew of his reputation already. A pity there wasn't a way to correct their history. 

“Surgeon!” a recruit said as he came into the infirmary. “Injury on the training ground. Man's lost a finger.” 

Nerida grumbled and left. Senna tested the cord, then lifted Solas' head just enough to loop it around his neck. With the necklace back on its owner she locked the door – not that it would stop them – and raided the surgeon's cabinet for a proper sized knife. 

Her heart thundered as she stood beside the bed. She curled her fingers to stop them trembling, stared at her palm far longer than she should have, then finally pulled the sharp blade across the skin of her hand. She closed her eyes and breathed, tasting the heady thrum of energy as her mana mixed with the life in her blood. 

She didn't have much time. Senna willed the power into sealing the gash on his leg. After that it went to rejuvenating his skin and bone. She was surprised how little coaxing the magic required. 

Solas took a gulp of air. A shudder passed over him and his eyelids fluttered open for a heartbeat. Her ear twitched when the templars jiggled the doorknob. She checked for a breath on his lips but there was none. Neither was there a beat in his chest. The door rattled with a sharp bang. 

“No, you're not allowed.” She threw the covers back and placed her bloodied hand on his bare chest. She imagined the tendrils of dark magic curling gently around his heart and coaxing it to move once more. Gentle guidance, he'd said. 

Another bang at the door. A templar shouted for the key, called at Ser Barris. She focused everything on coercing his body back to life. 

A soft thrum answered her. Then another, stronger this time. He was breathing again. With the third successful heartbeat, Solas opened his eyes. There was recognition on his brow and she knew he was finally awake. Unintelligible words caught in his throat before his eyes closed again. But he would live. The door slammed open and bounced against the wall. 

Barris came in, hand on his blade, followed by three of his men. Senna stood to her full height. His eyes dropped to the blood on her hand and on Solas' chest. 

“ _You_?” And there was a sadness in his tone she wasn't expecting.

“I saved his life,” she said. “But I know your people have restrictions against certain kinds of magic, no matter how they're used.”

“The use of blood magic is punishable by death,” he answered. “Its corrupting influence is already upon you.” 

He drew his blade. The heavy, sharp feel of a dispelling aura fell on her shoulders. Senna didn't move. She could fight them but there was no point. She could not escape all of Therinfal, not that she would leave Solas behind if she could. 

Barris stepped forward. Senna took a steadying breath. 

She blinked, and suddenly there was the back of a dirty leather coat in front of her. She looked up. A large hat and scraggly blonde hair. She remembered him. Cole. 

His hand extended at the battle ready templars. “Forget.”

Two heartbeats passed and the templars quietly sheathed their swords and left. Barris stood there with a furrowed brow. 

“You were going to give her a letter,” Cole prompted. 

“Her-Senna, a letter arrived for you from the Inquisition,” Barris said. He pulled the missive out of his belt and walked towards Senna, unaware of Cole as the boy stepped aside. 

“By messenger?” She took the sealed envelope with her clean left hand. That was unusual. Most correspondence was sent by raven if it needed to arrive quickly. 

“Yes. I hope you will consider the contents of the letter,” he said with a small smile. 

“You know what it says?” 

“Not entirely, but I know what it is in reference to.” He saluted her. “I will leave you to read it. Come to me when you're ready to reply.”

Senna clutched the letter and watched Barris leave, none the wiser of the deadly confrontation they almost had. He stopped at the door and turned as if looking for something. He shook his head and left.

“Thank you, Cole.” She glanced at the spirit boy, whose attention was lost somewhere else. He came back to her, surprised.

“You remember?” 

Her head tilted. “Yes. Why did I forget you before?”

“It's easier.” He had no more explanation than that as his fingers curled together. “You hurt your hand to heal him, even though you knew the templars would come. Why?”

“I couldn't let him die,” Senna said.

“Promise made with young hands in young blood. 'We're a team and I'm First so I'll take care of you.' But brittle and broken in battle. Death on my face. They can't trust me now. And another again, however I had to, if it's to die it will be mine this time.”

The memory clawed in her gut and Senna nodded. “I guess it's like that, yeah. A bit of atonement.”

“They shouldn't die for your mistakes anymore. But it wasn't you. It was Envy,” Cole said.

“I should've known sooner. The signs were there and I ignored them.” 

Senna dropped the letter on her cot and set about cleaning her hand. Cole helped her bandage it before she checked on Solas again. The stitches would have to be removed now that the gash was sealed. His breathing was stronger than before, a little snore on the edge of every intake. And his skin was finally warm to the touch.

“He can dream now,” Cole said. 

Senna nodded, relieved. “Good. We'll have to wake him soon so he can eat.”

By the time she left the infirmary for the mess hall, it was mid afternoon. Most had already eaten though she convinced the cooks to give her a bowl of warm porridge. She stole a pitcher of water as well. No doubt Solas would be able to drink it all. 

Cole was still there when she returned. Senna set the bowl in his hands and turned to Solas. She leaned over and wrapped her arms under his torso, crushing their chests together to hoist him up and lean him back against the wall. Her mind conjured the image of an embrace that wasn't his, but she shoved that thought aside. 

It only took a few shakes to his shoulder for his eyes to crack open again. “Solas, you need to eat something.”

He gave a sort of half nod before his head dipped forward. Senna held him upright and pressed a cup to his pale lips. He drank a few slow gulps of water, then fell asleep again. She shook him a second time until his eyes dragged open and he drank a little more. 

It was a long process getting him to eat, as he kept falling asleep after every other spoonful. 

“Oh, so he lives after all,” Nerida said when she returned and saw Senna feeding the half-conscious elf. Senna chose not to answer her. 

Solas slept again when she was finished badgering him. Senna got Nerida to remove the stitches, ignoring her comments about how quickly he healed all of a sudden. The woman was obviously fishing for answers but Senna would give her none. 

She ignored the letter in favor of sleep, though she still woke exceptionally early after a nightmare more graphic than she cared to remember. So finally, with nothing left to distract her from it, she broke the wax seal and flattened out the parchment. 

_Lady Senna Lavellan,_

_We, the founding members of the Inquisition, hereby formally extend to you the position of Inquisitor. After witnessing your actions both at the Fall of Haven and the more recent battle with the Envy demon, as well as your determination to find shelter for the Inquisition in the face of insurmountable odds, we unanimously found you worthy of this esteemed appointment. Time and again you have proven your courage, thoughtfulness, and perseverance, traits necessary as a leader and ones we welcome in our rank. The threat Corypheus wields must be stopped, and we would be honored to have you at the fore in facing this approaching darkness._

_We understand you are currently detained at Therinfal Redoubt. However, we await an answer at your earliest convenience, and look forward to seeing you at Skyhold when your work is done._

_Our sincerest regards,_  
Josephine Montilyet  
Cullen Rutherford  
Sister Leliana  
Cassandra Pentaghast 

Senna stared at the letter for some time. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Were they really asking _her_ to be the leader of their organization? Senna wondered if they were in their right mind. But then she thought about it and realized they probably still needed her around, needed the anchor, and offered her a position to make her feel important. That was the only thing she could think of, at least. 

She threw it aside and slumped back down into the cot. She was so tired. But she didn't want to sleep. After a few minutes she felt the drowsiness returning to her eyelids and pushed herself up. Instead she left for a walk in the forest outside of Therinfal. 

She missed home, missed her family, her people. It had been so long since she simply sat down with a group of people to exchange stories, play games, and drink together. 

And now these people wanted more from her.

Senna returned to the mess hall in a somber mood. She forced what she could down her throat and procured more porridge for Solas.

She was pleased to see him awake and sitting up, hands folded over his stomach. 

“I brought food for you,” she announced. 

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She was prepared to feed him again if need be, but he reached out to accept the bowl and spoon. He looked infinitely better. The swelling on his face was completely gone and a great deal of the bruising was turning to blue, and even yellow. She wondered how much of it could be attributed to the blood magic.

Her eyes fell on the letter. It lay half open on her cot, the flowing loops of script visible from where she sat. Why would they ask this of her?

“How much time has passed?” Solas asked when he finished eating. 

“Since we came here together? Seventeen days. Four since Cole and I found you,” she said. 

“Ah.” There was a level of disappointment in the soft utterance. Senna looked away. She knew. She'd taken far too long. “Shall I assume your neck was not the only damage Envy caused?”

Senna shook her head. “Don't go there, Solas.”

He tried to read her eyes for the answers he sought, but she didn't want to give him any of them. He didn't need that. Solas sighed. “You're right, of course. I . . .”

But the words died and he didn't try to find them again. 

“I have a few questions, if you don't mind,” she said after a silence. 

“What would you like to know?”

“You . . . I don't know. I didn't think you capable of being possessed. You always seemed too strong for it. So how did Envy do it?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. 

“The simple answer is that I was not possessed. Envy does not need a body, only enough information to copy one. When it attacks, it tries to produce weakness and in so doing learns the target. Given enough points of weakness, it can assume the person's form in near perfect detail,” he said. 

Senna remembered her own battle with Envy. Were it not for Cole, she would have fallen to it as well. “So it gets under your skin, basically?”

“Yes, it seeks out specific memories or personality traits to work against and will adjust tactics according to how the attacks are received. It is a clever beast,” Solas said. 

“What could an apostate hermit be afraid of, I wonder? Mistaking rashvine for arbor's blessing? Or maybe just losing your only pair of trousers,” she joked.

The smile he gave her was soft and solemn. “No.”

Senna lost her playful expression. Oh, that was probably pushing too far. The sight of blood and aravels flashed in her mind. “Ir abelas. That was careless.”

He nodded. “You had other questions?”

“Are you a friend of Fen'Harel?” There was no use beating around that bush. 

“In a way, I suppose,” Solas said. “Why?”

She shrugged. “That seemed the only reason he would bother my dreams until I found you. I . . . saw what he is really like. Is that why you're angry with my people? For the way we know him?”

“The Dalish know nothing of him, or at least very little. They will hear nothing that does not conform to what they believe to be true,” he said.

“Can you really blame us? It's not like we can just walk up to the Pantheon members and ask them what happened. We have tried to preserve what we can and nothing has come up that contradicts what we knew about Fen'Harel. One man who claims to have seen otherwise in the Fade won't change that,” she said.

“I know. It is simply frustrating.” He sent a thoughtful glance her way. “Your opinion has changed?”

“He's not what I thought. I don't know. I haven't sorted everything out yet but I don't think he's malicious. If he didn't care about you, we wouldn't be here.”

Solas opened his mouth, stopped, and nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Trusting him. I imagine it was not easy,” Solas said.

“It wasn't, but I'm glad I did.”

“If your questions are finished, I should like to know what has happened in my absence. Is the Breach closed?”

“It is.” 

She spent the rest of the afternoon filling him in on what he missed, save the unanswered letter. When she asked him what his plan was now that the Breach was closed, he was adamant about returning to the Inquisition. 

“Why? We have done our part. They can take care of that monster,” Senna said. 

“If Corypheus is the one responsible for the Breach, he has the potential to do it again. I could not deceive myself into thinking all was well in the world knowing he has that kind of power,” Solas said. 

“Deceive yourself? The Inquisition is already planning to go after him, and Barris has told me the Templar Order is willing to help. He won't be running around with no opposition, so it's not like we're leaving the world to some grizzly fate,” she said. 

“Then I will assist in the effort. If everyone took your attitude, no one would be left to fight.”

A frown curled her lips. She glanced at the letter. 

Solas healed quickly over the next few days. They spent much of the time talking, as he shared a few new stories from the Fade and she recounted her experience with the Dread Wolf. Senna also confided the news of the Inquisition's offer.

“And you are hesitant to take it?” he asked. 

“I _am_ a Dalish elf. And this is a largely human organization. Does that not seem suspect to you?” she responded.

“Not at all. Quite the opposite, it is something to be proud of. Their faith does not come easily.”

“Their 'faith'?” 

“In you, in your ability. Do you really think Cassandra or any of the others would ask someone unqualified to lead them? They believe you fit for the role, as do I,” he said. 

It was hard to deny that. She couldn't see Cassandra going along with any kind of pandering nonsense. It gave her something to consider. 

“You could be the start of great change,” he added.

She snorted. “Yeah, and that always backfires. Can't wait to have my name stricken from the records and my ears chopped off in all the artwork.”

“It's possible, but that would not change what you can do here in the present.”

“You really think I should?” she finally asked. 

“I absolutely do.”

His answer rang in her mind until, two days later, she wrote her response and sent it by courier to Skyhold. 

“I will be returning with you when you're ready,” Senna told Solas as he walked a short lap around the infirmary, leaning heavily on his left leg. He'd shaved his head, the prickly stubble now gone from his scalp. She'd wondered if he might grow it out, but it seemed he preferred keeping his head bare. 

“Excellent. If you are willing, we should depart day after tomorrow,” he said. 

Her brow arched. “Solas, you can barely walk.”

“My mana is almost completely recovered, and I have been mending the bone in spurts. In two days time it should be adequate for travel.”

“'Adequate' isn't good enough. What rush is there?” she said.

“If you are accepting the role of Inquisitor, a great deal. There will likely be a coronation and a thousand myriad tasks for you to attend. The sooner you begin, the better,” he said. 

Senna sighed. “And I agreed to this. Alright, in two days. But if you're still limping that hard you can forget it.”

It earned her a chuckle, one that quickly fell from his lips. “If we are both returning to the Inquisition, I believe there is something we must discuss.”

Her heart thudded uncomfortably. “Is there?”

“Before the incident with Envy, there may have been some lingering uncertainty on the matter, but it would be best if we maintain a purely professional relationship,” he said, shoulders stiff and pulled back. 

“Oh.” Senna glanced away. She couldn't blame him, not after all he went through. “Yes, that would be best. Is it okay if I still come to you for advice?”

“Of course. I will be at your disposal, Inquisitor, simply not in any personal capacity.”

“Well. Thank you.” She didn't know what else to say. 

Rather suddenly, conversation did not come so easily. By the time they were prepared to leave, they had shared several a strange silence. Or at least they felt strange to her. She wouldn't dare to ask. 

As promised, Solas was no longer limping heavily. It didn't escape her notice that he favored his good leg. Perhaps he always would, though there was still time left for it to heal. 

“Cole?” Senna caught sight of the boy when she took Duncan's reins. He was shuffling around, looking like he was waiting for something. 

He approached, wringing his fingers as he looked between Senna and Solas. “I was going to follow. I want to come. You help people, you made them safe. I want to do that. I can help.”

“Of course, Cole,” Senna said. “We'll have to start a tally of how many times you've saved my life.”

“Mine as well,” Solas added. “The Inquisition will have need of your talents, I'm certain.”

“Thank you.”

Senna mounted first so she could help Solas into the saddle behind her if he needed it. He didn't, of course, and his body brushed hers as he settled. 

The strangest fear burst in her chest. She couldn't see him. It was the first time since he awoke that he wasn't in front of her or within her range of sight. Her throat tightened, fingers trembling around the reins, as she began to imagine the ways he could kill her before she knew to fight back. Her neck was open and exposed, easy to reach around and grab or slice through with a hidden knife. 

Duncan bellowed, ready to move. 

Senna swallowed hard. No, that was all ridiculous. Solas had no reason to kill her, much less attack. She was jumping to conclusions. 

Oh, but wasn't that what her mind told her with Envy? She didn't trust her instinct when it was right all along. She shouldn't fall for the same trick twice. 

“Send word when you arrive,” Barris said to see them off. 

“We will. Thank you for everything, Ser Barris,” Senna said, steeling herself in reality. He saluted and Senna nudged Duncan into a canter slow enough for Cole to keep step with. 

Solas, despite what he said, was not in any condition to travel. Senna discovered this when he began to fall asleep behind her. The first time he leaned forward and brushed against her back she nearly jumped from her skin, tense muscles tightening harder. Her reaction was enough to keep him awake for a while longer. Still, he eventually succumbed and curled against her, soft breath puffing on her skin. 

Senna chose to keep moving. If they stopped every time he needed a nap, they wouldn't get to Skyhold in less than a month. Though she kept regretting it as the feel of him against her back trembled down her spine and set unbidden tears in her eyes. 

“Don't say a word,” she warned Cole, knowing the spirit could see her struggle. 

“He wouldn't do that,” he said quietly. 

Perhaps it was true, but that didn't stop the reaction. With time, maybe it would get better. That was her hope. 

For it was a long way back to Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsatisfied with the ending? DX Me too. So I've already started on their reconciliation here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5111837/chapters/11760503
> 
> Hope to see you there, and thank you for all the love I've gotten with this story. You're excitement made it happen. \o/


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